


Bones of Rubber, Heart of Steel

by roraruu



Series: Daisy Chain [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, OOC, TW: Blood, TW: Swearing, TW: injuries, i guess its an au??? Idk, implied background ship, its weird bc i try to give faye something other that just “ALM ALM ALM” so she’s weird...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roraruu/pseuds/roraruu
Summary: Faye had hoped to find something in this war that would keep her and Alm together. Instead, she finds it with another childhood friend.





	1. White Magic Doesn’t Work on Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmicPinkDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicPinkDancer/gifts).



> lmfao this has been a long time coming  
> pls download the pdf of this i spent a long fucking time workin on it. it’s available on my tumblr through my profile theres even an extra fic inside I’m begging yall
> 
> immediately after i finished this chapter my dumbass was like “oh how does it feel to fall again” n then i fell in mud and remembered so yeah™

They were hit hard and fast by the Zofian Army just outside the Thieves’ shrine. It was almost like they came out of nowhere in a small hoarde.

The orders are shouted as they go along. Alm commands again, with Lukas as his guide. He’s anxious, his fingers quaking on his arrows. While Tobin trusts his friend more than anything, he doesn’t trust himself with a bow. Sure, he’d practiced on and off in Ram Village, but that was shooting apples off of a fence and aiming at stable targets on trees. Now the targets move and bleed when hit. It’s messier, scarier.

Yet the others around him are calm, like this battle is just apart of their everyday life. They move like it’s a birthright, born and destined to be on the battlefield; something he doesn’t feel the same about. He panics, feeling that he’s in over his head.

Alm and Gray and Lukas hold the line way ahead while he is in the back with the strange healer they picked up from the shrine. Faye is in the skies above, watching for reinforcements.

He can remember the old rhyme they used to tell about pegasus knights: if it flies, it dies. He used to laugh at the joke, but it’s lost it’s lustre since he’s the one with the quiver full of arrows and Faye’s the one on the back of a winged beast.

Alm calls for him to shoot down a soldier that threatens to cross their line. He pulls an arrow from his quiver, nervously knocks it and takes aim, landing in the shoulder of the soldier. He hears the soldier cry out, watching as he’s knocked back by the force of his shot.

He had known he wasn’t fit for taking a bow in his hands. His vision wasn’t the best, and his hands shake whenever he draws back the string. He has a hard time focusing. His eyes are everywhere—flicking back and forth from Gray and Alm who are both going head-to-head against Zofian soldiers bigger than them.

He’s not cut out for the battlefield, he should’ve stayed back in Ram Village. He repeats the thought over and over in his head, becoming almost like a prayer to the Earth Mother.

A Zofian soldier rushes him, past the battle-line—past _his_ line of safety. He lets out a yelp, scrambling for an arrow from his quiver. He backtracks, tripping over his own feet. He falls back on the ground, his quiver spilling out arrows. He scrambles for one, pulling back and taking aim.

He shoots before he can register Faye flying past him. His arrow sails past her, scaring the pegasus. The creature whinnies loudly, taking off high into the air and losing her when they’re a couple feet off the ground. She loses her grasp on her lance, it coming down on the soldier’s arm.

Faye comes down a second later, landing on her shoulder blade with a loud and painful crunch! She erupts in a loud cuss, calling attention from the other soldiers. Tobin starts off towards her, taking aim at the soldier who still walks. He lets out a breath, critically hitting the soldier in the chest.

The healer crosses the field and Tobin hurries over to Faye. Her arm is bent backwards in such a way that even he knows is wrong. He stands in front of her, hands shaking as he readies his bow. He listens to her whimper and begin to cry, watching as the healer comes closer.

“I’ll give you coverage.” He says to the healer.

She thanks him and quickly murmurs strange words. She takes Faye’s head into her lap, staining her indigo and white robes with crimson. Her soft voice and gentle words aren’t enough for Faye to stop gasping.

Tobin’s arrow nervously shakes, his hands unsteady as he listens to his friend cry from his mistake. It’s a horrible sound, something that he already knows will haunt his dreams.

 

* * *

 

  
He hears another shriek come from the medical tent. His fingers press into his neck, a ripple of heat spiralling down his spine.

The battle had ended shortly after Faye’s fall. Lukas had immediately come off the field to carry Faye back to their medical tent. He’d followed suit, almost tripping on her lance, which laid on the battlefield.

He was sure that she wouldn’t have done something so brash. She would always listen to Alm, and he hadn’t heard him order anything. He hadn’t seen the soldier coming for him, hadn’t thought of how quick she could be... Or that someone—no, _Faye_ , would come to his rescue.

Gray sits with him, his knee bouncing up and down. They hear her cry once again, slowly sliding into a mass of tears.

“Jeez.” Gray murmurs. “Loud enough.”

“She fell off a pegasus.” Tobin says accusingly, his fingers pressing harder into his neck. His newfound callouses are unfamiliar to his skin. “Probably broke her arm, if not more.”

“Great, maybe she’ll go home.”

“Gray,” Tobin warns. “We need her.”

“Oh right, we do. Because another mouth to feed is a great idea.” Gray says before looking to him with accusing eyes. “Do you _even_ hear yourself? She came along just for Alm!”

“You came along for the girls.” He shoots back.

“That’s different.”

“ _How?!_ ” Tobin barks.

Gray rolls his eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is that she’s not exactly the best person to have on the field. She’s weak and feeble! And...I mean a pegasus knight? _Really?_  Are we reading Archanean fantasies?” He gripes. “We could’ve done with another healer!”

“She did what she wanted! You know she would’ve done it anyways.” He says. “If you’re just going to sit and complain about our friend, you might as well go and help Alm with her pegasus.”

Gray doesn’t say anything, only crossing his arms and kicking up dust. He scoffs. “Want me to leave you be?” He asks, concerned and annoyed at the same time.

“Do what you want.” Tobin says. His hands cover his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.

They sit in silence, listening to Faye’s cries slowly quiet down. Lukas emerges from the tent a moment later. His hands are smeared with blood, the colour almost matching his armour. The two get up.

“She’s fine.” He says calmly before either can ask. He holds a hand up and Tobin notices nail marks and bruises on his forearm. Lukas must’ve had to hold her down while the healer worked. Faye always was a fighter.

“How bad is she?” Gray asks. Tobin can’t find his voice.

“She’ll be fine. She needs to rest.” He says simply. “The both of you should let Silque finish with her and let her sleep.”

“But—“ Gray starts. Lukas turns to them with a simple frown. It’s terrifying in the place of his usual, placid smile. His brow knits in stern warning.

“Let Faye rest. You can see her in the morning.” He says. “Come along, there’s plenty to help Alm with.”

Gray follows Lukas away, Tobin trailing behind. He helps to start a fire and prepare some provisions for dinner. But by nightfall, he finds himself walking back to the med tent. He sits outside, picking shoots of grass from the ground. He’s silent, knowing if Lukas catches him he’ll be forced away.

He watches as a lantern is lit in the tent. He watches as the shadows dance, hears water slosh around and then the tent flaps moving.

The healer, Silque, emerges, her face tired and worn. Gray had to say her name 10 times before it stuck in Tobin’s head. She steps out, lets out a tired sigh. Tobin gets up, stepping into the residual glow of the lantern.

“Is she all right?” He asks her. She’s barely out of the tent, the flaps covering half her body. The healer jumps and shrinks back, surprised. Her robes are covered in blood. _Faye’s blood_. He thinks. The hairs on his arms prickle and his skin crawls.

“She’ll be fine, Tobin.” Silque assures him. Her tone is soft and gentle, trying to instil faith in him. In her hands is Faye’s cape also stained with blood. He thinks for a moment about how she insisted to continue wearing it, even though it didn’t match her new uniform.

“But she fell from a high distance, are you sure she didn’t break anything? Will she walk again?” He rambles, stammering over different ailments and complications she could have.

Silque politely lets him finish. She’s much too nice to tell him to stop talking. “Mother Mila’s healing magic is quite the spectacle,” Silque explains. “She won’t even have a scar from her fall.”

“R-Really?” He asks.

Silque nods. “Truly. Faye is a trooper.”

After a moment, he agrees quietly. “She is...”

His eyes flicker to the healer and it’s the first time he sees Silque up close. She’s got a soft, round face with eyes that hide a glint of mischief. Her baby blue hair is very short and mostly hidden under a headdress—the staple in a cleric’s uniform.

“Would you like to see her?” Silque asks. He doesn’t realize the gears turning in her head, connecting the ones and twos to her.

“I shouldn’t... Lukas would be really annoyed.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her lips turn into a small smile. “It’d be just between us. Besides, I’m going to the river to clean up.” She leans closer to him, whispering into his shoulder. “Lukas will be busy at my side.”

“You’re sure it’d be okay?” He asks cautiously.

She nods, her blue hair sways under the covering. “A secret between us.” She says, there’s a little moan from the tent. “And I think she’s waking.” She pulls the tent flap open, letting him step through. The flaps brush together once again as Silque leaves.

The tent is small, barely fitting two bed rolls and a chest-full of supplies in it. Faye lays in one of the rolls, lantern light illuminating her hair. She moans again, slowly waking from sleep. A scratchy cotton blanket is pulled up to her neck. There’s no bruises, no blood, no cuts. Nothing. She just looks like she’s passed out.

 _Mila’s magic is something else,_ Tobin thinks.

Faye’s eyes flicker open a moment later. Her brown gaze is cloudy and bleary. She looks around then squints at him. “Tobin?” She asks. Her voice is hoarse from sleep.

He nods. “Y-Yeah. I’m glad to see you’re okay.” He says.

Faye doesn’t say anything. Instead, she tiredly blinks.

“I wanted to say sorry.” He continues.

“Why?”

His brow furrows. “My arrow scared your pegasus.” He says. “Remember? You went to stop the enemy and I almost shot you?”

Faye still looks unfazed. “And?”

“I’m sorry?” He says, a frown creasing his lips. “You got hurt because of me.”

Her shoulders move slightly, movement stifled by the thick blanket. It’s like she’s trying to shrug. “So? We’re bound to get hurt by each other.” She says.

Tobin’s mouth gapes. “B-But we’re on the same side?” He says. “C-Childhood friends! Ram Village kids forever... You should be mad at me!”

Faye shrugs again, sitting up. Her armour has been removed, and he can see the ribbed turtleneck of her dress. Her pigtails have unraveled, her wispy hair furls into ringlets. “I’m not mad.” Faye says. Quickly, in a concerned voice she adds, “Unless Alm got hurt too.”

“No, he was at the front line, remember?”

“Then I don’t care.” She says. “My pegasus is fine, right?”

“Alm was getting her.”

A smile crosses Faye’s face and she breathes a happy sigh. “How considerate.” She says happily. Tobin rolls his eyes. _Alm could tell her that she’s an awful knight and she’d still think the world of him._ He thinks tiredly to himself.

“Y’know, _I_ came back here to apologize for knocking you off your pegasus.” He says.

“And Alm’s getting her back.” She says. “Besides, _he_ didn’t knock me off in the first place.”

Tobin rolls his eyes. They could go back and forth like this until dawn.

“Listen, I just wanted to make things right. And if you’re okay, I’ll go and you can moon over Alm with Silque.” He says.

Faye’s face scrunches up in disgust. “No, she’s already tried to.” She says. “She’s too gossipy.”

Tobin doesn’t say anything, instead giving her an unimpressed look. The knight draws her knees to her chest, her elbows resting on them. “Thanks for coming, I guess.” She says. “It’s nice to have someone to wake up to.”

His brow furrows, not sure whether to be offended or pleased. “You’re welcome.”

She glances at him. “But you know, they’ll be plenty of times where you’ll get hurt because of me. Maybe I can’t get to you in time, or I make the wrong move.” She says, her eyes locking with his. “This is a _real_ war, not the games we used to play with sticks and twigs behind your house.”

“I know.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “No you don’t.” She says.

“What makes you say that? You’re the one who blindly joined the army for Alm.”

“And you’re only in it for the money, clueless boy.” She chastises.

He scoffs, getting up and walking to the exit. His hand is on the tent flap. He’s had enough from a hypocrite for one night. _What makes her think that she’s all high and mighty? She‘s the one risking—_

“Tobin,” she says, breaking him from his thoughts.

He turns to face her. Her eyes stare up at him from behind her arms, lips brushing against them. “All’s fair in love and war, right?” She says. “Nana always said bones are made of rubber, but a heart’s made of steel.”

He doesn’t say anything. He searches her face, looking for a blush of the cheek or a curved brow—anything to tell him that she’s thinking of Alm. But there’s nothing, not even a smile; just a smirk from behind her arms.

 

* * *

 

  
They stop in the next town for directions and supplies. Alm and Lukas ask the locals’ elder for directions while Gray goes off to help Silque find gauze and ointments and more provisions. Tobin looks for ribbon to send back to his sisters.

Turns out, it’s a hard thing to come by in times like these.

“Ribbon’s too expensive to make, especially after the Earth Mother stopped giving us good crops.” One merchant says. Another laughs in his face when he says he only has 10 silver marks to spend.

Before they leave, he finds a baby-faced merchant who doesn’t speak a word. At first he thinks she can’t hear him, but his suspicions are dashed when she pulls out a board of ribbons, differing in hues and texture. He picks out several colours, a different one for each of his sisters. Last time, he sent back playing cards and paper toys for his brothers. She gives him a great deal for a couple yards, leaving him vindicated with his purchase.

As he’s walking away, he notices Faye with her pegasus. The children of the town gawk over her and her winged steed. She lifts a few to pet the muzzle of her partner. She’s been fine in battles as of late, like her fall had never even happened. Sure, she’d been practicing hard recently and fell off a few times, but she never fell that high or cried that loud. When he’d seen her fall off—or be bucked away on the one occasion—she’d simply got up, checked for injuries, brushed herself off and tried again.

Silque was right—she was a trooper. And a determined one for that.

He remembers his childhood with Faye. After Celica had left, she started to get rowdier, less concerned of what others thought. She’d become the one to run into danger head first. He hadn’t known of any other girl to start tackle games and go down to the river with a fishing lure in her hand. Or the one to smile and proudly show off her wounds from playing roughly.

Hell, he even remembers a time when she climbed a tree and stole a fresh honeycomb that earned her a ton of bee stings. She’d gotten teary-eyed sure, but she slathered some salve on it and then went around with the comb, showing it off to Alm.

Looking at it now, with her crush in his mind, Tobin understands why she didn’t stop when she got a bump on the head or scraped her knees or when her arms were covered in swollen stings. And why she didn’t care if she came home with ripped stockings or a torn dress. There were all scars, mementos of her effervescent pride that she could show off in front of Alm. Celica would never risk cutting her hands on fishing wire or dirtying her dress in the mud, but Faye would.

So in truth, he understood why she didn’t cry any more. One, to show how strong she was; and two, to show Alm she wouldn’t back away at pain or danger.

But like Silque had said, Mila’s magic left no scars. Nothing for Faye to proudly show Alm, no token or memory of her battles and mistakes. Without a scar, it became like the fall had never happened. Gray hadn’t mentioned it after he found out she was okay, not even Silque spoke of it.

He’s found himself more alert in recent battles. He’s training harder, more frequently. He’s still rough, but his aim is better and no longer threatens others. He always looks twice, never releases until the last second.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Alm calls for them to leave. He watches as Faye says farewell to the children, taking her steed’s reins and pulling her ahead, hurrying towards the entrance where their leader waits. Tobin hurries to catch up to the two, pulling out a piece of pink ribbon.

“Here.” He says, handing it to her. It was extra, intended for his sisters to fight over.

Her brow furrows, looking at the ribbon in his hand. “What is that?”

“It’s for you.” He says. “I think you’d look nice with it.”

Her gaze becomes condescending, almost saying _do you really think I’m going to wear it?_

“You don’t have to take it.” He says, closing his palm.

Faye pouts, snatching it from him before he can tuck it back into his pocket. He looks it over with her—it’s a soft pink and silky in texture. “Why were you buying ribbon?” She asks. “Your hair’s too short for it.”

“It’s for my sisters.” He says. “I like to send presents home.”

“Then why aren’t you sending it to them?” Faye asks, extending her hand to return it.

Tobin sidesteps, shoving his hands behind his back. They knock against his bow and quiver. “I bought extra. It’s like an early birthday present. Yours is coming up soon, right?”

Her gaze narrows on him, her lips forming into a thin frown. He watches as she scans it over once more and then rolls her eyes. She stops and braids part of her steed’s mane, knotting it with the ribbon.

“Hey, it was meant for you.” He says, somewhat annoyed.

“And I’ll do with it as I please.” Faye says. Alm calls the others closer and Faye smiles at Tobin before hurrying ahead.

 

* * *

 

  
Another pegasus knight comes to them. Lady Clair is her name and she’s... a handful.

She’s unlike anything he’s ever seen—with heavenly blonde hair and a sophisticated aura about her. She’s got a strange, noble manner of speaking and comes from an old Zofian house. She commands her pegasus in a way different than Faye does. Faye treats hers like her equal, her partner in each and every battle; Clair orders hers around harshly and then spoils it rotten after battles.

She’s everything they’re not, what they’re missing. Gray agrees with him on it.

And their competition for Clair begins. If Tobin offers her part of his dessert ration, Gray gives her all his. If he offers her a flower, Gray’s got a handful of blooms. If he gives her a hand moving something, Gray is busy making a path free of even the smallest pebbles. If he says she looks regal on her pegasus, Gray is writing her sonnets on her beauty and allure.

It makes their relationship rocky. Tobin’s always been the lightweight, involuntary wingman of the two, and Gray’s the ladies’ man. It bothers him because every other girl he’s liked, Gray’s liked too and gotten.

They get into a fist fight over Clair at one point, spitting vile, horrible words at each other. Tobin manages to bring Gray down, a feat he’s never been able to do before. He reels back to clock him in the cheek, but Gray’s quicker. Gray’s fist meets between his eyes, almost breaking his nose.

Gray stops when Tobin cries out in pain, a pool of blood collecting on the ground below their feet. Tobin’s never been good with words, so instead of trying to calm him down, he crumples his handkerchief into a ball and holds it to his nose. Gray looks as though he’s about to apologize, but storms off before he can smooth things over with words.

Tobin thinks about how lucky they are that Lukas didn’t stumble upon them. If he did, he would have given them an earful on their mission of peace and a load of extra chores and all the while staring them down with that terrifying frown. He remembers Lukas finding them fighting over a provision. It was all in good fun, but the knight had ordered them to hand it over. “If you have time to fight, you have time to polish some weapons.” He said before handing them rags and directing them to the weapons tent.

He’s leaning down, gingerly pinching his nose that still drips with blood. Anymore pressure and he’d cry out in pain, something that would definitely attract Lukas.

 _Then again, I’d probably attract him with this mock battlefield I’m making._ He thinks, staring at the dirt ground as he sits on a log outside his tent. He’s already soaked through his handkerchief and a few droplets of his blood pepper the earth.

“Gods, what happened to you?”

Tobin glances up, his boot quickly coming down on the blood he’s spilt on the ground. He drags his foot through it, hoping it will vanish. Instead it smears, making the dirt clump into minuscule pebbles of dust. Faye’s brow is furrowed and she’s got a mug in her hands.

“Gray.” He says in a nasally voice. He winces, it hurts to talk.

“Did you guys have a fight?” She asks, a hand absentmindedly slipping along the hem of her skirt. He thinks about how many times she’s seen them go at it back in the village. Stupid fights over scores in games and fisticuffs on who got to train with Sir Mycen first.

“Yeah. Surprised you didn’t hear it.”

Faye glances away, looking at the setting sun. Her face is washed with red and orange and yellow. She gives a short, quiet laugh. “I thought I heard some Terrors bickering.”

He scoffs, wincing when he moves his handkerchief. Blood drips onto the clumps, forming a pathetic little puddle.

“Do you want me to get Silque?” She asks.

“No. I think she’d tell Lukas.” He says. “You said she’s a gossip, right?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Faye gives a sympathetic sigh. He feels the log lower deeper into the Earth. She sits beside him, her hand moving to cup the mug with both.

“Were you fighting over that new girl? Clair?” She asks.

He nods. Faye’s lips curve into a smirk. She pulls out her own handkerchief from the pocket of her dress. She offers it to him and he thanks her.

“I don’t understand how you can set your heart on a girl after knowing her for a couple of days.” Faye says.

Tobin glances to her, face flushing in embarrassment. “What?”

“You’ve only known her for a couple of days.” She says. “How long have you known Gray?”

His answer is automatic. “Forever.” He says.

“Now would you throw that friendship away over a girl you barely know?” She asks.

He opens his mouth to speak in defence. She sets her mug down onto the ground, her brow hard and eyes judging. ”See?”

“Okay, that’s not fair.”

“How?” Faye challenges.

“You’re fighting this war for Alm... Right?”

She shrugs. “So?” She says. “I’ve known him forever too. It’s valid.”

“Not really.” Tobin says, pulling her handkerchief away from his nose. The blood is slowing. She reaches out, her cold fingers tracing his chin.

Her face grows serious as she leans closer. “He’s my friend before anything. If he told me he didn’t return my feelings, I would still be here, supporting him.” She says. She holds her mug out to him. “Tea?”

The archer takes the mug from her, taking a sip. He moves her handkerchief back to his nose, wincing at the pain slightly.

“I’ll keep watch. Get that bleeding under control.” Faye orders, getting up.

She brushes past him, her hair almost hitting him in the face. He gets a waft of her soap—something flowery and pretty. He notices that her plaits are knotted with different ribbon. The one he bought.

And suddenly, Clair looses her lustre and brilliance.

 

* * *

 

  
Avistym comes closer and closer, the time of birds and blistering sunny days. Sunburns from marching come and Tobin and Gray peel away dry, papery skin. When Faye chastises him on how gross it is, he and Gray chase her around with summer skin.

Soon he realizes that it will be his birthday. With it, he realizes that it will be the first time he’s celebrating his birthday away from his family. Each year, he’d get a break from chores to spend the day with his friends, then he’d come home to his favourite dinner—rich pot roast. Maybe, if he was lucky and the money was right, he’d even get a gift, like a new book or something else.

But he realizes his birthday won’t be like that this year. No day off from chores, no free time with his friends, no hot pot roast, and no presents. His parents and siblings are missing—replaced with a bow and quiver full of arrows and rolling Zofian plains.

His name gets called during mail—he gets a letter back from his family. They wish him a good day and thanks for the ribbons and money he’d sent. It brings a smile to his face when he sees all their names. But it soon subsides after he realizes that he won’t be seeing them for some time. Probably longer than he would’ve ever dreamed of.

He wonders if the others feel the same about their birthdays—Gray, Alm, Silque and Lukas. He remembers that Faye’s birthday had just passed. He remembers fighting a battle on her birthday, and he prays to Mila that he won’t have to draw his bow with intent to kill on that day. He mentioned in passing that the ribbons he’d given her was his gift. She rolled her eyes and walked ahead with her pegasus. He thought it was a pretty good present, practical and nice; but his gift paled in comparison to what Alm gave her: a pat on the shoulder and a smile. He had seen her blush like a tomato and smile like an idiot when he left.

He’s surprised to see Faye when he steps out of his tent that afternoon. She doesn’t greet him. “Hey.” He says, noticing that her hands are tucked behind her back. He cranes his neck to get a look, and she playfully sidesteps away from him. She’s got something behind her back and it smells divine.

“ _Shh!_ ” She hisses, holding a finger to her lips.

“Why?” He asks, his voice dipping. She looks around, presumably for other people.

“If Gray or Alm smell these, they’ll be all gone.” She says.

“Smell what?”

Faye shakes her head, pulling out a muslin knot from behind her back. “This.” She says. “Happy birthday.”

Tobin takes it, surprised that it’s still warm. He starts to untie the knot. “Wait, they’ll spill!” She says, holding out her hands. She cups the bottom of the cloth as he unties it.

It’s a handful of sweet cookies. The scent drags him back to waiting outside Faye’s door on cool mornings. He can practically see her Nana cutting the cookies before placing them on the roaring cookstove to bake. Faye’s Nana made the best treats, and all the kids in the village would wait around at Faye’s home hoping that the old lady would give some away. He remembers all the times he had gotten sick from waiting in the cold rain for even a sniff of the cookies.

“Wow, that takes me back.” He says, staring at the pink and blue candy beads sunken in the dough.

“My Nana sent the recipe in a letter.” She says. Her eyes wander up to his, brow furrowing. “You don’t like them?” She asks, concerned.

He shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s great. I love them.” He takes the knot from her, stuffing a cookie in his mouth. It crumbles as he bites down on it. He holds his hand under his chin, stopping the precious bits from dropping to the ground. “It’s like I’m a kid again! Here.”

He throws back the crumbs, still chewing as he takes one out of the knot. He offers it to her and as she opens her mouth to object, he places the cookie between her lips. A laugh is mumbled and she pulls the cookie from her teeth.

“You make them just like your Nana.” He says. “It’s amazing.”

“I was lucky I had the ingredients.” She mumbles between bites. “Otherwise you would’ve been getting a dirt cake.”

“Do you want another?” He asks.

She shakes her head, poking him in the chest. “They’re _your_ present.”

“But sharing is caring.” He protests. “Besides, you went to a lot of trouble to make them. All I did was go to the market and buy some ribbon.”

He peers closer, noticing that she’s wearing it again. “It looks nice on you by the way.” He adds.

She flushes, lips turning into a frown. “Keep your cookies for yourself.” She says. “And if anyone asks, I didn’t make them.”

“Right.” Tobin says. She nods, wishing him another happy birthday before hurrying away.

 

* * *

 

 

Days pass. They’ve picked up more of Lukas’s fellow Deliverance members—an eccentric lancer, a lazy archer and his commanding officer. They raided Zofia Castle, find a strange sword and rescue Clair’s sister-in-law. They press onward, towards Desaix’s Fortress.

They see the scourge of war, both between Rigel and Zofia and Duma and Mila. Zofia’s farmlands are barren, the crops withered and dying. The ones that aren’t are weak and small. Some places are welcoming to the resistance, while others still pledge themselves to the dead king.

They rest in a forest village, crossing paths with a curious mage in need. Alm, being the do-gooder he is, offers to save his sister in turn for their help. They rest in the village that night, appreciating the kindness of the villagers who give them food and provisions.

Tobin sits in front of a dying campfire, restringing his bow in anticipation for the upcoming battles. Faye sits beside him, embroidery in her hands. He hadn’t seen her sew for a long time. Clair had needed help with a torn hem—and with some begging—Faye had donned her needle and thread once again.

He stares at it, realizing that she stopped sewing shortly before Lukas had come to Ram. She’s paused, the needle poised in one hand and Clair’s garment in the other.

“Something on your mind?” Tobin asks, his eyes flickering from the garment to her.

“How do you live loving a lie?” She asks. She looks to him, gaze thoughtful and narrowed on the fire in front of them.

“I don’t know.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you just get over it?” She questions. Her tense changes, the needle wavering between her fingers. “Is it just... nothing? Do I go on believing it like a dream or wake up?”

“I don’t think it’s nothing.” He says. “But then again, I’m no expert at love.”

She looks him in the eyes before dropping them back to her sewing. A sigh escapes her lips as he glances back and forth from her to the string around his fingers, pulling it taut.

“I think I want to confess my feelings to Alm.” She says simply.

He almost drops his bow into the fire. His eyes are wide as his mind goes over the thousands of awful scenarios that can take place for poor Faye.

She’s not blind, noticing his mouth agape and wide eyes. She scoffs, watching him scramble for his bow. “Gods, don’t act like you didn’t know.” She says.

Tobin’s brow furrows, his heart tightening in his chest. He knows the thin line he walks with Faye better than anyone else. “Uh, d-do you really think that’s a good idea?” He asks carefully.

“It’s gonna come out sooner or later.” Faye says. “Besides, I want it to come from my mouth, not anyone else’s.”

Tobin bites his lip.

“What?” She asks, suddenly defensive and accusatory. Faye sticks her needle into the cloth, dropping it into her lap. Her hands rest on her hips.

“You know how obvious you are. I’m pretty clueless, and even I can see it.” He says. “Hate to break it to you Faye, but he probably knows already.”

“Still, it’s the sentiment.” She says. “I’d rather he hear it from me and know how genuine I am rather than hear it from a gossip.”

“So you told Silque?”

Faye frowns, face flushed. “She figured it out for herself.” She mumbles.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Well I can’t stop you,” he says, adding on, “Even if it’s a horrible idea.”

“Thanks for the honesty.” She says sarcastically. She grabs her embroidery, taking the needle in between her fingers with frustration.

“Just trying to talk some sense into you.” He says, leaning close for his shoulder to bump hers. “Like you did to me.”

Her face flushes and she stands suddenly. “I’ll be sure to call on you when I need more advice on matters of the heart.” She snaps. She stomps away, back to her tent.

Tobin sighs, knowing what will come.

That night, he has visions of poor Faye being turned down in front of the Deliverance. He thinks of Gray hiding laughter, for he can be cruel; Silque offering a prayer to the Mother for her broken heart; Clair and Mathilda hiding their second-hand embarrassment for her. He wonders if she pays attention to the world outside of Alm.

She didn’t greet him that morning and took a seat closer to Alm again. Gray had made a scorching comment about the quick dismissal he’d got and Tobin told him to stuff it.

The next day, they’re fighting in some heavy woods when Faye approaches Alm. It’s getting riskier as the gap between them and Desaix’s Fortress closes. Even before they marched in, he could see it on her face—giddiness, bravado, pride.

 _Gods, she’s really going to do it._ He thinks nervously. He can see it now—Faye with glittery eyes about ask Alm if he’ll allow her to stay by his side, and wham! A lance comes between the two and one of them is hurt. He thinks of her nonchalantly brushing off a stab to the stomach as if it’s nothing, and then swearing to kill in Alm’s name if he gets so much as a dent in his armour.

He readies his bow, going against his orders. He was to watch for other soldiers in the skies, but instead he watches Faye’s back as she talks to Alm, who’s clearing a path.

Tobin watches it unfold. She’s giddy and nervous, barely hitting the enemy as they speak. She looks pretty, all trussed up in her uniform. She’s probably washed it in that flowery soap she has. He’s so used to seeing her in her big skirt and apron. Yet, the armour she wears and the lance she wields looks right on her, like she was always meant to be a knight.

He watches carefully for enemies and makes sure Faye keeps out of the way. Now would be the worst time for his aim to go astray. Her plaits swish back and forth as she dodges attacks, and Tobin notices that she’s not wearing the ribbon he’d given her.

The battle is quick and over before she can finish her rousing speech. Alm politely brushes her off, holding up a hand. “We should keep marching.” He says with a nervous smile. “We can talk later tonight, okay?

Faye nods and smiles happily as Alm presses on ahead. She orders her steed to fly up, giving coverage from the sky. Tobin lets out a grievous sigh. _Poor girl_. He thinks.

 

* * *

 

  
Tobin isn’t surprised when Faye is quieter than usual around camp. He doesn’t even need to ask if she’s been turned down.

She buries herself in extra tasks, helping Silque with minor injuries, keeping the campfires lit and cooking some meals. Clair even makes an effort to be near her. He sees them sitting by the campfire talking, their voices growing hush when he passes.

He’s finishing up with some dirty dishes at the riverside when Faye comes over with a small basket of laundry to be washed. It’s a cool night and she’s got her old brown cape over her shoulders. She sits on her knees, pulling out a garment and some soap that she sets between the two.

“You need a hand?” He asks.

Faye shrugs, staying quiet. “I’ll take some help.” She says.

He finishes with the dishes, stacking them neatly to the side. He reaches into the basket, pulling out an uniform shirt—probably Lukas or Forsyth’s. She begins to scrub.

“Are you all right?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” She says too quickly. She frowns after she speaks.

“Okay.” Tobin murmurs, his eyes lingering on her. Despite the different dress, she looks just like the kid she was when she left Ram. But she’s different—she wears heartbreak on her sleeve. She’s not the same old, unbreakable and eager-to-please Faye he once knew.

After a moment of washing in silence, she changes her mind.“I’d like to be alone please.” She says, her voice thin and tight.

He ignores her. “I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend. Friends worry about each other.” He says, looking to her. He stops rubbing soap into the garment. He glances to her hands, stuck in the water. They’re bright red, freezing cold from the north Zofian waters.

She doesn’t say a word, instead wringing water out of the shirt.

“We are still friends, _right?_ ” He asks, growing nervous. He’s known Faye since he was a kid. She’d always been there, hovering in the background of his life.

“Mmhm.” She nods, reaching into the basket and pulling out a pair of stockings. She begins to scrub out grass stains and blood. Quietly, she speaks.

“He turned me down. For the record.”

Tobin sighs sympathetically. “I had a feeling.”

She smacks him on the shoulder with a wet hand, leaving a mark on his sleeve. He yelps out in pain and surprise. “You dummy! You’re supposed act like you didn’t know!”

“Hey, we both knew how it was gonna play out!” He shoots back, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think otherwise?!”

Faye stays quiet, avoiding his gaze. Her eyes glue to the rippling river, the currents taking their soapy bubbles downstream.

“Oh Faye, really?” He says tiredly.

“I thought maybe we’d find something along the way... But...” she breathes out a heavy sigh. Her eyes are glassy and narrow. “We didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She says.

“But I’m not surprised.” He says under his breath.

“Hm. Neither am I.” Faye says. His head whips around, eyes on her. He expected an annoyed remark or a pinch on the ear. Instead, she lets out a defeated sigh. “I kinda knew once we left Ram that he’d change, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

Her eyes well with tears. “It’s funny right? I was so lost in my daydreams that I forgot about real life.” She pulls out the now-clean stockings and wipes at her face. “Got stuck loving a lie.”

His heart goes out to her. Faye rarely cries, always holding back tears and bearing her wounds for all to see. But now the pain isn’t physical, and she has no one to show them off to anymore. No scars or marks and no one to proudly show them off to. All her cards are played, her queen is dead and she’s defeated.

 _I wonder how long she’s been painting on a smile in front of me._ He thinks, watching as she blinks constantly to keep her tears from falling down her face.

He closes the gap between the two, reaching for her cheek to wipe her tears away and to tell her it’s going to be all right. Her eyes meet his and at the last second, he panics and rests his hand on her arm. Goose pimples form on her skin from his wet and freezing hand. “Hey, you’re tough, right?” He says. “And what did your Nana say?”

She sniffles, nodding. “Bones are made of rubber, but a heart’s made of steel.”

“Right.” He says, pulling his other hand out of the water to touch her cheek lightly. Her face flushes with heat against the cold, eyes wide. “And it’ll take—“

Faye’s gaze turns to the river, carrying the garment he was cleaning away. “Oh crap!” Tobin exclaims, swivelling on his knees and falling into the icy water. He flounders, hands slapping the water’s surface as he makes it to the side of the river.

“Tobin?!” Faye exclaims, perching at the riverside. He clambers out, spitting cold water from his mouth. She reaches down, hauling him up with a strong pull. He’s soaked from head to toe and leaves from the river stick to his boots. “You’re an idiot!” She yells, sadness gone and replaced with concern and frustration. She undoes the gold clasp of her cape, pulling it off her shoulder and drapes it over his. She doesn’t pay any mind to the fact that it’s too small for him, barely reaching his elbows.

“But the clothing—“ He argues, struggling against her cape.

“I’ll get it,” Faye says. “But I can’t get another you!”

He flushes as she draws the cape around his shoulders, locking the clasp. “There. You’ll catch a cold if you go back in.” She says, giving him a stern look. “Stay here.”

His cheeks burn as she gets up and breaks a twig off a scraggly tree. She runs ahead, following the river’s bend, off from his vision.

He pulls her cape closer to him, not sure if his cheeks are flushing from the cold or the fact that he’s wearing her cape. She’s always been taking care of him like this. Protecting him, like the shield to a sword. Perhaps it’s that their families were so close—she played with Tobin and his siblings as kids. Or maybe it’s the fact that Tobin was her first heal.

He remembers it clearly. He had been practicing his archery a little too close to Kliff in the village when he had almost been struck by a fire spell. Faye had been close by and wrapped his burn in gauze and salve. He even remembers her chastising him, her exact words: “Gods, be more careful would you?”

Silly boy, never have, never will be.

He would’ve thought she’d been a cleric for sure with all the practical healing she had under her belt. In fact, he thinks someone in her family had been a servant to Mila before settling down in little old Ram Village. She would’ve even looked pretty in the simple, floor-length robes. And Silque was with them now, so she would have had someone to guide her and hone that natural talent.

But she had opted for something completely different. He had even suggested clerisy to her before her class change. She simply stared at him with a dead look and asked, “Tobin, do you really think I’m going to start listening to you after all these years?”

Headstrong and aggravating. That’s what she was and always would be.

He leans his cheek into the smooth, almost velvet-like texture of her cape. It’s softer and warmer than it looks. She’d been wearing it for Mila-knows how long. _Probably a gift from her parents._ He thinks. _Even smells like her._

It’s got this soft, almost floral scent. Clean and light, like a fresh bouquet of flowers straight from the field. He pulls his face away from her cape as she comes back, heat washing over his cheeks. She has the twig in her hand, victorious with his escaped shirt.

“Come on,” she says, approaching. She throws the garment into the basket of dirty clothes. She leans down, her strong hand picking him up under his arm. “You need to warm up, you’ll get sick otherwise.”

“I can walk y’know.” Tobin says, a nervous laugh sneaking into his voice.

“Then use the legs Mila gave you! Gods.” She says, shaking her head. “Healing magic only works on broken bones and wounds, not colds. The sooner you get warm, the better.”

He watches as she lets go of his arm, her face flushed. He hides his shock as she reaches for the basket, hoisting it onto her hip. “Come on.” She says.

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he clutches her cape closer to him, breathing in her sweet scent, his face burning.

 


	2. Holy Blessings & Meddling Healers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmfaoooooo two nerds flirting in a barn bc theyre dorks  
> I love this chapter its so self indulgent I’m writhing ok bye  
> Reminder that u can get the entire fic up on my tumblr! Link is in my bio

A memory:

The day started out bright and sunny, warm too. But it soon became streaked with dark storm clouds across the sky.

She was sitting by the pond just outside Ram Village, holding her knees to her chest. She wore her little pink and white frock, which had been dirtied and dyed gray by the water. It was heavy and stuck to the back of her legs. She had kicked off her little slippers and rested them on one of the stones that surrounded the pond. Her hair was wet and tangling into locks as it dried. They unravelled from the pretty pigtails that her Nana had plaited that morning.

She had gone out to play that day, rapping on Kliff, Gray, Alm, Celica and Tobin’s doors, asking all of them the same question: do you want to go play? A variety of excuses came—preparing for a long day of school, grounding from a father, training with Sir Mycen (times two), and chores were among them. None of her friends gave her the answer she wanted.

So she walked herself to the little pond and played by herself. She jumped in the water, splashed around like a duck, tried catching frogs with her hands and after a few short minutes, became bored with herself. She climbed out, sat at the side of the pond and watched as it soon began to rain. 

And slowly, she heard footsteps come closer. Before she knew it, Tobin was sitting right beside her, staring intently at her for a moment. He didn’t say a word, didn’t do anything, just sat with her and watched the rain ripple on the pond.

“Go away Tobin.” She’d said, still feeling abandonment and betrayal from her friends.

“Why?”

“You didn’t want to play with me before.”

“I was busy helping my Ma.” He said, his voice confused.

She brought her knees to her head, hiding her face with them. Her messy hair stood up in spots, this and that way. She stayed quiet, fighting tears by pressing her face into her knees.

“Faye?” Tobin said, his voice was nervous and unsure.

She didn’t respond. She heard him shift closer to her and the soles of her slippers meet the ground.  She felt his body heat radiate onto her cold dress a moment later. He took her tangled locks, doing his best to gently brush it out with his fingers. Clumsily, he attempted to plait her hair. “My Ma was teaching me how to braid hair.” He said. “I wanted to learn in case you or Celica ever wanted yours braided.”

Faye moved her face from her knees, her eyes red. She watched his little brows knit together as he bit his lower lip in concentration. His small hands moved slowly, making and undoing mistakes only to repeat them on the next step. Every time he messed up, he would tap the rock that he sat on with his foot.

He fumbled to knot her hair with her dirty bows. “There.” He said, looking at the lopsided mess he’d made. He scooted over to the other side of her head, his fingers detangling her hair once again and sectioning her locks off.

“Ma says that you need to stand by your friends, even if they don’t tell you why they’re feeling bad.” He said. “So you don’t have to say why you’re mad or sad or upset. I’ll still be here.”

She looked at the scraggly braids he’d made. Tobin had parted her hair into sections that were either too fat or too thin, making her hair look like it was cut on a slant. It was obviously the work of a beginner. Her brow hardened as Tobin smiled earnestly.

She looked away quickly. “Do you want to try again?” She asked, keeping her gaze away from him.

“Sure.” He said, unravelling her braids and beginning again.

...

She remembers it clearly. She couldn’t even recall why she was so upset over not playing with her friends. But he had come over and sat with her and cleaned her up, consoling her with silence. Celica or Gray or Kliff or even Alm had never done that for her. Yet, Tobin did. And he continued to do it whenever she was upset.

He had been there after her fall, unfazed when she woke up and asked where Alm was, brushing off his apology like it was a fly. Hell, she can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there, quietly hanging nearby in the background to make sure she was okay.

He’d always been that way. Whenever he was at a loss, he would just stop and stay quiet, trying to make sense of the situation. Like when Gray and Alm had decided to join the Deliverance, he just stood and watched for a moment until they egged him on.

As he grew older, Faye noted that he became more nervous around girls. Well, most except her, Celica and his sisters. He wasn’t exactly meek, just unsure of himself most of the time, like he was afraid of being told to go away. Afraid of failure. But that fear and nervousness subsides when they come closer to the border.

The air had been getting gradually cooler and cooler, eventually dropping to freezing temperatures. Faye thinks of Ram Village, and how it’s probably still warm and sunny. Perhaps the leaves are just changing colours down there.

They march in the freezing air, silent and nervous as they come closer and closer to border. But something throws their concentration and focus off. It’s white and falls in clumpy flakes, no two looking the same. Snow. 

The villagers had never seen it, not once. Faye had never seen snow in real life before—just drawn in picture books that Gray had as a child. They’re marching towards the Sluice Gate when it starts to come down. She doesn’t notice it until Tobin says something.

“Gods it’s cold.” He murmurs. He’s taken to walking beside her. Her pegasus shields them from the chilly winds that blow. He looks up, his nose pinky-red from the cold. “Hey, look at that,”

Faye glances up, a storm cloud crossing over the sky. It begins to fall in smaller flakes, catching in their hair and freezing their faces. “It’s snow,” she says.

“Wow, I didn’t think it actually existed,” Gray says, walking up beside them. Clair is nearby, pretending not to listen. She stops when she hears him speak with bewildered breath.

“Of course it did you stupid boy. What did you expect? A warm vacation in Rigel?” Clair says, spiralling the two into an argument where Gray asks to snuggle up beside her steed and her. The lady frowns and gives him an earful of insults to which he ignores. 

“It’s colder than I thought it would be.” Faye says. “Nothing at all like Zofia’s weather.”

“I know what you mean.” Tobin says. He reaches into the pack on his back and produces her cape, handing it back to her. “But here, something to keep you warm. I laundered it and everything.”

“Thanks.” She says, drawing it around her shoulders and locking the clasp. “I’d like to shake some sense into the person who thought a short dress was a good idea as a uniform.”

Tobin laughs under his breath. “I didn’t think snow happened in Valentia.” He says. “Thought it was just a fairy tale, y’know?”

Gray interjects, coming up beside them. His new uniform shows a lot of his skin, growing red in the cold. “Me too, Tobipoo! Shit’s cold.” He says. “Faye, mind if I stay close to your noble steed? She’s warm.”

Faye’s gaze narrows. “Why don’t you go and walk with Clair?” She asks. Tobin shoots her a look, wide-eyed and warning. She ignores him and continues. “You sure seem to like her company.”

Gray frowns. His eyes flicker between her and Tobin, who keeps his gaze to the ground. He simply mutters a cuss under his breath and walks ahead to catch up with the other knight.

“What was that for?” Tobin asks, frowning.

“We were both thinking it,” Faye says. “Besides, Gray bugs me. You know that.”

“But he’s my best friend.” His voice dips. “Weren’t you the one who insisted I give up on Clair for him?”

“I didn’t insist.” Faye says simply.

Tobin scoffs, rolling his eyes as they continue on in silence.

They reach the Sluice Gate before the afternoon even begins. They’re attacked by arcanists. Orders are called so quickly by Alm that Faye doesn’t even catch the name of their enemy; just that they’re Rigelian and they have a prisoner. She gets a look at her—just a child, barely a teenager. There’s a huge dandelion-yellow ribbon in her hair, suggesting she’s young and definitely doesn’t belong here.

Faye thinks it won’t be a problem to get her back... Until she warps towards the blue-haired archer—Python, she thinks is his name—dispatching him with black magic like nothing. Her mouth falls agape as he leaves the battlefield to heal, with Silque hurrying after him to counter the damage with white magic.

The battle quickly becomes intense and Faye can barely keep up with the flashings of her lance. It’s become almost automatic like attack and defence. She’s become quite good, commended by most of the army for her raw talent.

She pulls on the reins of her steed, commanding her skywards before diving down to hold their line. Her eyes fall on Tobin, ready to shoot with a Rigelian soldier aiming a javelin at him. The knight yanks on the reins, guiding her steed back down towards him. She reels back, bringing her lance down with all her might. There’s a painful crack and a shriek that falls silent a second later.

“You all right?” She calls, her steed turning away from the bloody mess that her lance has left. “Tobin?”

“Ye-Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He says, his hand is clamped to his side.

“What’s that?” She asks, pointing to where his hand rests. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

“N-No I’m not!”

“You idiot, go get patched up!” She exclaims, her eyes searching the field for Silque’s blue hair and white robes. “Healer!”

“I’m fine Faye!” He exclaims, taking aim and knocking down another soldier. His bow is smeared with blood and she can’t tell if it’s his or someone else’s. He lets out a wince as he draws another arrow from his quiver.

Alm orders her to stop chittering and get to the front of the line. She glances back at the archer, who holds up a hand. “I’ll be fine.” He assures her, his eyes pleading for her to go.

With a harsh look and a snap of the reins, she’s gone.

 

* * *

_He got hurt because of me_. She thinks, kicking herself from inside the tent that she shares with Silque. The cleric isn’t around, she’s back in the infirmary, healing Tobin.

She had seen him wobble with unsteady legs as the battle finished. Before she could take off towards him, he collapsed. Forsyth and Lukas took him by the arms and legs to the infirmary, Silque running ahead to prepare. Unlike when she fell, Tobin was silent.

Gray avoided her gaze at dinner. Clair carefully kept her distance. Lukas suggested it wasn’t her fault, to which Faye ignored and walked away from him.

She rubs her hands together, unable to focus on the mountain-worth of stitching she has to do. They’re cold and clammy, nervously quaking. She feels obligated to go and seek him out, to wait there until he wakes and give him an earful on his stupidity.

And then give a prompt and tender apology.

But she’s got too much pride to march across the encampment in the fading daylight. She frowns, cursing herself. _Stupid girl_. She thinks. Stupid, stupid girl.

She puts her stitching away as the tent flap opens. Silque steps in, her delicate hands gripping the rough fabric. Faye stands immediately. “Is he okay?” She asks before Silque can even take a breath.

“It was only a gash.” Silque says, using her most calming tone. “He’s stopped bleeding and I’ve healed him up. I was only so long because Python and Delthea needed to be healed too.”

Faye grips the edges of her cape, clutching it in hopes it’ll give her the right words to say. It smells like him now—scents of wood and silver marks. “W-Who?” She asks.

Silque’s brow furrows. “The little girl we saved today? Luthier’s sister?” She says. “A-And the archer?”

“The one you like to gab with, right?” She asks, her social filter has been obliterated by nervousness. Silque flushes, shaking her head quickly with a small nervous laugh. 

“Y-Yes, I suppose I do like chatting with him.” She says quickly, changing the subject as fast as she can. “But back to Tobin, he’s all right.”

Faye stays quiet, taking in quaking breaths. He’s okay. She thinks. Her head drops and she hides her face behind her hands.

“Oh Faye, he’s okay.” She says softly, reaching for the girl’s hand to pat it in comfort. “I promise he is.”

Silque’s hands are dry and cold. Probably from washing them in the river. Faye thinks. Tobin comes to her mind, soaked to the bone and sitting beside her in the fire light, wearing her cape to keep him warm.

“Did you want to see him?” Silque asks, peering to get a good look at her face.

She shakes her head, her pride getting the better of her again. She curses at herself again. “I promise they’ll be no risks... We can make it look like we’re having a stroll and some girl talk.” 

“Thank you Silque, but no.” Faye says quickly, pulling her hand from the cleric’s grasp. She sidesteps around her and exits their tent.

She walks around the camp several times. Her thoughts are all about him, worried if he’s in pain because of her or if he’s resenting her for moving the wrong way. The thought of him being worried about her bubbles up too, which she promptly pushes back into the depths of her mind.

“Faye?”

She stops in her tracks, turning around. Alm stands before her, concern on his face. Most of his armour is discarded and she remembers the little boy who had protected her from a corrupt knight. “You okay?” He asks.

She flushes immediately, hands breaking from knots and growing sweaty. “I’m doing okay.” She says. “Th-Thanks for asking.”

She feels those old feelings of desire and longing wash back to her. Of idolizing Alm for his talents and courage. He takes a few steps closer to her. He awkwardly pats her shoulder and she feels her breath hitch. Heat touches her cheeks, tenderly glowing.

“We’re all a little worried about Tobin.” He says, offering a comforting smile.

She nods, her gaze going to the ground. “I think he got hurt because of me.” She says.

Alm shakes his head. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I was supposed to hold the line and he—“

He stops her in her sentence. His gaze narrows, shaking his head. “Faye, you sooner saved Tobin than got him hurt.” He says. “If you hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t be here right now.”

“But I disobeyed your orders.” She says quietly. “You’re our leader, and we’re supposed to be your strength.”

“My judgement isn’t always all encompassing. I couldn’t see that he was in danger and you did. You did the right thing Faye.” He says. She sheepishly smiles, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you going to see him?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I was just trying to clear my head.”

“Understandable. It’s been a stressful day.” Alm says. He offers her a dorky little smile. “You did great out there.”

“Thank you, Alm.” Faye says. He excuses himself, turning back to the strategy tent.

For once, Faye doesn’t feel the weightless butterflies in her stomach. And her flush is nothing more than one from embarrassment. As she walks, she realizes that Alm is no more than a friend that she once had feelings for. He’s no longer a hero that she put up on a pedestal for most of her life; just a boy trapped in a mess, trying to handle a disaster with inexperienced hands.

_He doesn’t need me complicating things_. She thinks, letting out a sigh. And with that strong, small thought she changes. For the first time in forever, it feels like she can breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, Faye decides to go to the infirmary. The sun has set, allowing her to walk freely—even though she can’t really care anymore. Her worry for Tobin tops any pride she has left.

As she walks, she picks up flowers, her hands full of blooms when she finally makes it to the med tent. She sits outside on the ground, weaving them into a wreath. Pinks and yellows and purples and greens blend together into a crown. Her fingers and skirts are covered with pollen, making her sneeze.

She hears a groan and stands. She pokes her head in between the tent flaps of the infirmary. It’s grown with the army. The bedrolls she’d slept on are gone, replaced with cots and decorated with heavy blankets. There’s more supplies, more room. There’s even a little wooden stool for Silque to rest in between heals.

Tobin’s slowly waking, shifting in his cot as Faye enters with wide eyes. She trades her wreath for the stool, planting it in front of his bedside. She sits, watching as he wakes.

She remembers falling asleep in the flower fields with him and the other villagers as kids. Mostly, she remembers how loudly Kliff snored and Gray’s feet kicking her, waking her from her nap. She remembers watching Celica flip and flop like a fish out of water, Alm snoring on his stomach and Tobin passed out like he was dead to the world. She remembers watching them for a while as she wove flowers into a crown for herself.

“You were right.”

She nearly falls off her stool, surprised by the waking archer. He chuckles softly as she frowns. “What are you going on about?” She almost barks, remembering at the last second that she’s the one who put him there.

“Waking up to someone is nice.” He says. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he sits up with a wince. “You said that after you fell. Or at least I think you did.”

He rests on his elbows, trying to gain the momentum to sit up. He’s in an undershirt, and Faye can see the scars of past battles on his shoulders and arms. There’s even one on his collarbone, she remembers giving it to him in childhood. She feels shame for permanently scarring his body in such a way.

“Faye?”

Her eyes flicker back to his, flushing in annoyance. “I just wanted to see for myself that you were all right.” She says, her hands knotting into fists, steeling herself.

“I appreciate it.” He says.

She frowns—something to keep her from showing any other emotion—and gets up to grab the wreath of flowers. She bashfully hands him it. “I made you this.” She says, keeping her gaze from him. She focuses on her shoes, dusty from the march and wet with the evening dew.

He looks at the wreath, first confused and then happy. He gives a dazed smile, one that looks like he’d received it from one of his younger siblings. The Mother’s healing magic must have a different effect on people. She thinks as he examines it thoroughly. He pulls a pink flower out from the weave, thumbing it and staring at it for a minute before placing the wreath on his head, becoming a crown.

“Come here,” he says finally. He gestures for her to come towards him. She leans closer and he pushes the flower behind her bangs. His finger tips gently brush against her ear, glowing warm at the touch. They’ve become more callous as time has passed, bowstrings and arrows marking his life now. He gives a gentle chuckle, melodic and deep, coming from the tops of his lungs. He looks at the flower in her hair, his gaze flickering to hers.

Her fingers touch the soft petals of the flower. “Thanks.” She says. “But I made it for you.”

“And I wanted to share.” He says. He lays back into his cot, holding her gaze. “You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty.”

Her heart skips a beat and her breath hitches in her throat. Her face turns hot, running from her ears to her cheeks and down her neck. Faye attempts to hide her surprise with a frown. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” He says. “You’ve always been pretty to me...”

White magic could leave the healed a little fuzzy. She remembers being treated for a wrist sprain after lance training with Lukas. When he came to check up on her, she made an inappropriate comment on how handsome he was. She still heated with annoyance and embarrassment whenever she remembered it.

He keeps his eyes on her, hazy and dazed with exhaustion. He focuses on her hair, reaching out gingerly for the wispy ends that are knotted with his ribbon. She says a silent and confused prayer in her head, hoping that he will and won’t stop.

Tobin’s fingers touch her hair. Thanks to the day’s battle it feels like straw from sweat and grease. She hasn’t had a chance to wash her face and hair or clean her clothes yet.

“Don’t worry.” He says. “I’m okay.”

“I know you are.” She breathes.

“No you don’t.” He says. “You think I’m gonna vanish.”

She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t abandon us, I know you won’t.”

“Who says I wouldn’t.” He lays his head back on his pillow, his hand still holding her plait. She leans closer, her hot little hands resting on the side of his cot. His bed is warm and humid, and she can only think of how cold he must be.

“I could go home at any minute. Call it quits.” It’s almost a threat, something to scare her. 

“You wouldn’t.” She says, clawing at words to express how she feels. He stares at her plaits and bows, dangling over him like stars. His eyes flicker up to her.

“Maybe I would.”

“And leave me all alone?” She asks, regretting the words once they leave her mouth.

Her breath hitches again, face flushing harder as she realizes what she’s said. Her hands ball into fists, taking the hot sheets into her hands. She looks away from him, plaits freeing from his grasp and swishing as she moves her head to stare at something else, something other than him. She could leave easily, get up and run away, but her legs won’t move. It’s as if the Earth Mother had trapped her there—nailing her feet to the floor and gluing her bottom to the seat when she wasn’t looking. 

Tobin gives her a tired smile. “You’re right... I couldn’t.” He says softly. Her gaze meet his again. “I guess I‘ll be here in the morning. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” she insists.

He touches her plait again, pushing it over her shoulder. There’s a devious little smirk on his face, nothing she’s ever seen before. “Riiight.” He says, unconvinced.

She frowns, something to hide the blush that won’t leave. She breaks Mila’s hold on her, the nails and glue disappearing from her body as she gets up. She reaches for the tent flap.

“Don’t worry.” He says.

“I’m not—“ she argues again, voice growing tired and annoyed. She glances back at him. His flower crown is crumpled against the pillow. Before she can finish her sentence, he’s back to sleep, their conversation becoming nothing more than a strange dream to him... And an odd reality to her.

 

* * *

 

 

They save a pretty saint from the witch’s mansion on Fear Mountain. Even in a dirty jail cell she’s gorgeous with mint-green hair and soft eyes. She’s dressed in white and holds a staff. Her name isTatiana—which she finally tells her after several distractions—and she speaks constantly of her lover, a general that is in contract with the Rigelian Army.

She’s not as strong as Silque, who is also a saint now. Faye can’t help but notice how pretty she looks, and the other Deliverance members agree, especially the men.

In fact, Tatiana is the polar opposite of Silque. She serves at the church of Duma in their clergy. She’s clumsy and scatterbrained, unlike Silque who keeps her mind focused constantly and speaks with conviction and thought. Halfway through healing one of Faye’s injuries, Tatiana asks if they’ve come across a man named Zeke. Faye can only assume he’s her lover. When Faye says no, her face falls and her magic stops working, losing herself in her thoughts. Faye calls Tatiana back from her mind and she apologizes and starts again. 

They stay the night in the mansion, thankful for the beds and heat. After a warm meal and chatter she goes to finish her duties in the barn, Tobin joining her. It’s freezing outside, the light rain only adding to the chill.

She settles up the tacks for the horses in the barn while Tobin doles out the feed. There was an extra horse, presumably left behind by the Rigelian Army. Tatiana had said rested there recently and added something about a contract between the witch and a warlord. 

The poor thing is scared beyond belief and hungry too. Faye watches as Tobin offers the horse an apple they’d found on the ground. It takes it, chomping away as he quickly fills the trough with extra feed and throws a blanket over it’s back.

Faye can only assume that the mansion once belonged to a Rigelian noble family; there are servants’ quarters, a scullery and a barn for the horses. Her mind fills with thoughts of a rich family, slowly called to war by the emperor. She thinks of how easily that could’ve been her and her family. In fact, it was her, minus the wealth and indulgence.

“Mystery horse has his and now for the Deli Boys... Some for Abel, a little for Rebecca and for Sigrun...” He says, breaking her thoughts. He fills up the troughs for each horse. “What’s your pegasus’s name?”

“It doesn’t have one.” Faye says, stepping towards Clair’s pegasus, Sigrun. She doesn’t like her much, seems she barely tolerates Faye. She’s tried to bite at her several times, even after Clair has “talked to her”, which involved her spoiling the creature with pretty words and plenty of carrots and apples. 

“What?” He asks in disbelief. He stops feeding Abel, who annoyedly whines for his feed. Tobin shoves it into his feeding trough.

“I never named it.” Faye takes one of the old scratchy blankets meant to keep their steeds warm on nights like this. She throws it over Sigrun, the pegasus throwing her a glare. She grabs another blanket before moving towards her own pegasus. 

“It? You mean you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?” He asks.

“I think it’s a girl. Although, that is a good question.” She says, throwing the blanket over the pegasus’s back and crudely looking at her steed’s undercarriage.

Tobin lets out a groan, shaking his head. He finishes filling the troughs. “Seriously? How disconnected can you be from your steed?” He said, stepping towards her pegasus. “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘one in battle’ or something? Commune with it?”

“We are one. I just don’t spoil it like Clair and Clive do.” She says, smoothing out the blanket on the pegasus’s back. “And she’s a girl by the way,”

“Maybe you should start spoiling her.” He reaches out to gently rub the pegasus’s muzzle, the creature giving a content sigh. “Poor thing must be starved for love and attention.”

“I’m a good horse mom.” She argues, crossing her arms as she walks out from the stall. She rests a hand on the sliding gate.

Tobin continues to pat the pegasus’s muzzle, moving to it’s neck. “Then give her a name.” He challenges.

“Fine. Pegasus.”

“Lame.” He said. He leaned closer to the pegasus’s muzzle, nodding. “Right horsey? Yeah she agrees that it’s lame.”

Faye rolls her eyes. “So what, you can talk to the mounts?” She asks scathingly. “And she’s not a horse!”

He continues with the joke, leaning closer to her pegasus. “What’s that? You say your mistress is lame?”

“I’m not lame!” She scoffs. She leans in to push his shoulder. He doesn’t pay any mind, continuing to pet and pamper the creature. She slides the gate closed on him.

“Lame at giving names.” He says, turning around to see that the door is shut. Faye wears a proud smirk, arms across her chest. He has to lean down to see her fully, wearing a proud smirk and her arms across his chest. Tobin steps closer to the door, the tip of his nose peeking through the grates.

“If you won’t name it, I will.” He threatens. She can feel his warm breath on her cheeks, his eyes settle on her with a focused but playful stare.

“Be my guest.” Faye says, kicking some hay across the floor. She’d never been good at naming things. As a little girl, she’d given all her dolls the name Miranda. She stands on her tip-toes watching intently through the little window as his brow knits in concentration, his hand rubbing his chin as he thinks.

“It’s a girl, right?” He asks, meeting her gaze.

“Yeah but if you doubt me, by all means you can check again.” Faye says with coy intent as he shoots her a look. He turns back to her pegasus. She watches as he looks at the creature tenderly, rubbing her muzzle again. He looks calm, in his element.

“I like the name Rosanne. And mystery horse will be Orson.” He says at last, running his hand over the creature’s mane. “What do you think?”

“It’s a name.” She says simply.

“Gods, you could sound a little more enthusiastic.” He gripes before leaning to her pegasus, wrapping an arm around her neck. His voice changed in pitch, imitating a girl’s. “C’mon Faye, don’t you like my name?”

She fights a smile. “You’re a child.” She says with a shake of her head.

“Oh come on, you have to think it’s pretty or something!”

“Fine, it’s pretty.” Faye says before letting out a sigh. “You’re such high maintenance.”

He walks back to the grate, a hand coming up to hold the bars. “Now, mind letting me out of here?” He asks.

“Only if you ask nicely.” She says.

“Please?” He says with an earnest smile.

“Hm... Nicer.” She says as he gives her a look.

“Pretty please?” He asks, annunciating the words with a sweet voice. She shakes her head. “Jeez, what do you want me to do? Beg?”

Faye smirks. “Actually... Yeah, I do want you to beg.” She says.

“You’re just lucky we’re such good friends.” He says, pointing at her before clearing his throat. One of his hands snake through the grates, taking hers. “Lady Faye, o devoted heart. Please, let me out so I may tell you how dear you are to me.” He says.

The knight smirks. “More.” She orders. He opens his mouth to continue but stops quickly when Orson whinnies in nervousness. The two glance to the barn door, where a confused and surprised Silque stands, her eyes wide.

“Hello Faye, do you need a hand?” She stops when she notices Tobin locked in the stall, their faces only inches apart and hands clasped together. Her face flushes in embarrassment, turning on her heel. “M-My apologies, I see that you’re busy! I’ll go.”

“No it’s fine!” Faye calls, ripping her hand from his. He yelps, cussing as he pulls his arm from in between the grates. Tobin adds that they weren’t doing anything. The cleric awkwardly smiles as she steps back inside the barn. Faye unlocks the stall, quickly stepping away from him, giving a good innocent distance between the two. 

Faye focuses on the fluffy ornamentation of Silque’s new dress. Her robes are pure white, growing darker in colour thanks to the rain. There’s a train on her skirt that encircles her, dragging behind as she walks. It’s a pretty design that Faye almost finds herself jealous of. 

“Sorry, we were just taking care of the mounts,” Faye says, her gaze meeting Silque’s.

“Y-Yeah,” Tobin adds awkwardly. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s scorching red too. “I just locked myself inside with Faye’s pegasus by accident.”

_Crap. Just when she was starting to grow on me._ Faye thinks as Silque laughs awkwardly. Their relationship had recently improved for the better. Silque respects her lack of interest in gossip, instead telling her stories of her journey from a little island called Novis to mainland Zofia. Faye notices that she selectively leaves out chunks, avoiding her questions like the enemies who dodge her Nosferatu spell. Catching the two playing in the barn will most definitely make her tongue wag. Faye painfully thinks of Silque speaking to the blue-haired archer. She can already hear the words she’ll say, ‘The Ram Villagers all seem very close. I saw the archer and the pegasus knight flirtatiously playing in the barn!’

“I was just looking to have a word.” She awkwardly smiles. “There’s a shrine not far down Fear Mountain. I believe Sir Alm wants to visit it when we leave the mansion.”

She clasps her hands together as if she’s about to pray to the Earth Mother. “In my prayers, Mother Mila has spoke of great promise and power for those who train hard.”

Tobin smirks. “Ooh, maybe?” He says. “I could make Orson there my—“

“Not you,” Silque says, covering with a polite smile. Her gaze settles on the knight. “I meant Faye.”

Faye covers her mouth with her hand, laughing into it as Tobin’s face falls. Silque continues, moving her staff to the inside of her elbow. ”I know that there’s great strength in line for pegasus knights. Lady Clair is already a falcon knight.” She says. “Perhaps it’s time you prayed to the Mother for guidance on the matter.”

“You should do it,” Tobin says. “By the time you get your act together and change, I’ll already be a bow knight.”

“The Mother advises against boasting, Tobin.” Silque warns with a thin smile. Faye laughs again, elbowing him in the ribs where his armour ends. The wind is knocked out of him and he shoots her a look.

“Watch your mouth around ladies.” Faye says.

“Oh, so now you’re a lady? Why didn’t you invite me to the commencement?” He playfully asks.

“I didn’t think you’d fit in.” Faye says with a smirk. “Too crass and clueless.”

“Wow, you’re pulling no punches.” He mutters under his breath.

Silque laughs. “You two have great chemistry,” she commends. Faye feels her face flush again. Silque notices and touches her shoulder. “It’s touching to see friends so close.” She stands a little taller, only millimetres shorter than Faye. “But still, I’d advise you to think about asking the Mother for guidance to higher power.”

“Yeah Faye, think about it.” Tobin echoes.

“Thank you Silque.” Faye says as Tobin echoes her voice again. She flicks his ear. He hisses, swatting at her plaits. She bats his nose and he winces, grabbing at it. 

“You’re too rough for a lady.” He whines.

“But a gentlemen doesn’t push a lady’s buttons.” Silque says.

“Right!” Faye adds.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m out. Gray wanted to explore the mansion. Find some cool stuff. Maybe even freak out Clair a little bit.”

“And you’re not inviting us?” Faye asks, hands on her hips. Silque demurely hides a smile behind a hand.

“You’ve said that you don’t like Gray. Sorry Silque, but I’m not sure about your stance on ghosts.” He says, walking towards the barn door. “And besides, I think Rosie there needs some tender loving care from her mistress.”

“Her name is Rosanne!” Faye exclaims as he begins to walk away.

He steps out into the rain, his hair quickly growing wet as he turns around with a bright smile. “Right! Rosie for short!” He calls, adding a good-bye to Orson too. He gives a wave before turning away and disappearing into the rain.

Faye turns back to Rosanne. The pegasus stares at her, snorting a little. She reaches inside the stall, laying a hand on her steed’s muzzle. In truth, Rosanne was the perfect name for her steed. It was more than pretty and better than anything Faye could’ve thought of. Then again, Tobin was great with naming things—remembering was the hard part for him.

“He seems to like you a lot.” Silque says excitedly, breaking the silence. Her gaze flickers back to the barn door to make sure he’s not lurking around. “How long have you known Tobin?”

“We’ve been friends all our lives.” Faye says.

A mischievous smile crosses the healer’s face. “How sweet.” She says. Silque’s enthusiasm brings Faye back to the honeyed words he’d spoken in the infirmary. She fights a blush, focusing on Rosanne.

“Silque, I have a question about white magic.” She says.

The cleric’s face lights up, a smile crossing her lips. “Oh? What is it?” She asks.

“Does it leave people hazy? Like... drowsy almost? Maybe make someone less lucid?”

She thinks. “It can.” She glances towards Faye. “I know once I healed Sir Python and he began to talk of...” She blushes, realizing what she’s leading up to. Faye feels a bit of pride at her slip-up. “Questionable things. Er, why do you ask?”

The knight pats Rosanne’s muzzle, pulling her hand from the stall. “Just wondering.” She says. “I’m getting pretty tired. I think I’m going to turn in.”

“As am I.” Silque says. From the corner of her eye Faye can see that devious smile return to Silque’s lips. “Let’s go back to the mansion.”

 

* * *

 

 

They leave the witch’s abode, taking Orson with them. Sure enough, they find the shrine not that far down the mountain. It is in the depths of a dungeon, filled with Terrors and Spectres.

Rosanne is more focused in battle. She’s sharper, doing what Faye needs without command. All she needed was a name to work harder. Faye thinks as she dispatches a gargoyle with little effort.

She sees a heavenly light illuminating a tunnel. A Mila shrine. She thinks. Silque must already be in there praying. Maybe Tatiana too.

She hears Alm call her name, and she moves to the front line. His voice is low, almost thoughtful. It’s most likely to avoid enemies hearing them. She can almost feel the fatigue in the air from her fellow fighters.

She steps beside him. “Yes Alm?” She says.

“I think you should pray to the Earth Mother.” He says, keeping his gaze from her. “We’ll be facing more Terrors in the future.”

“As you wish.” She says quietly. Tatiana appears from inside, offering a gentle smile to Faye.

“Follow me,” she says gently, like Faye is a child. “And leave your steed.”

Faye turns back to Rosanne, patting her muzzle twice. She drops her reins and follows quietly after Tatiana.

Since her first steps into the Thieves’ Shrine down in southern Zofia, she’s felt uneasy in such holy places created by the Mother’s own hand. They feel like a blessed, pious place, something that people like she shouldn’t tread across. It’s a place meant for the devout and holy, like Silque and Tatiana, not her.

She remembers Tobin suggesting that she become a cleric and she laughed in his face. She, a holy woman? Had he not seen how she was around Alm? Fumbling over herself like a schoolgirl. Clerics were pure and demure ladies, not girls who splashed in the river like baby birds and bragged about their wounds.

A damp smell permeates the air. It’s almost like she’s in her family’s cellar, getting more potatoes and ground wheat for one of her Nana’s pies. She watches the floor as she walks, looking at the intricate patterns that moss has made through the stone over the seasons. She comes into the torchlight, looking upwards to see the Mila Idol.

It’s empty eyes study her, casting judgement whether she’s worthy to learn new skills. Her palms grow slick as she approaches the altar. Silque kneels before the Idol, hands clasped in prayer. Her lips move every so often and she catches words like “ _keep our souls safe”, “offer guidance”_ and _“take those who have passed unto your loving arms_ ”.

She finishes her wishes and prayers and thoughts onto the goddess before greeting Faye with a smile. She flocks to Faye’s right, Tatiana on her left.

“We need something for you to offer to the Idol.” Silque says softly.

Faye’s brow furrows. “I didn’t have to offer anything last time.” She says confused.

“You’re asking for further power and guidance. An exchange must be made.” Silque explains. “Mother Mila cannot grant power without something in turn. You must offer a piece of yourself to her.”

She moves away part of her headdress, and Faye notices now that her hair is shorter than it was. It barely touches her neck now, bluntly cut most likely with a knife. “I offered my hair to her.” She explains.

Faye instinctively touches one of her plaits.

Tatiana notices her worry and leans toward her. “I offered a prayer cord that I had since I was a child.” She says quickly, offering a smile. “It doesn’t have to be something from yourself, just something that holds meaning to you.”

Silque touches her shoulder. “Let’s finish the preparations.” She says to Tatiana before turning back to Faye. “Think about what you may want to give.”

The other saint nods, turning on her heel and reaching into a large pack. She produces a new set of armour and a different dress—pure white with matching stockings. They must have found them ages ago for they’re dusty. She lifts out heavier armour, matching in colour with accents of gold. A holy knight... That’s what she’s about to become.

For a second, she wonders if they took the armour off a dead falcon knight. If they washed away the deceased’s blood with Mila’s rainy tears, drying it in the Valentian sun and consecrating it with Mana herbs before putting it away for her to use.

She hears bottles clink together and one is pulled out. “It’s also tradition to offer the Mother a drink.” Tatiana says pulling out the cork. The sweet, fruity scent of Ram Wine leeches into the shrine room. “We thought it only right to leave you and the other villagers the bottle of wine from your home.”

She utters an unsure thank you. “What am I exactly supposed to do?” She asks.

“Offer the drink, then an item you wish to offer and ask the Mother for her guidance and strength.” Silque says. “Take as long as you need.”

The two saints hold her hands and give her the wine. “May you always walk in the light of Mila’s blessing.” They say in unison. Faye watches as they fade into the white light leaving her alone.

She stares at the Mila statue for a moment, her eyes studying the undefined features of the Idol. There’s curves of a face, where eyes and a nose should be; an orb, which she assumes to be the world in it’s hands; the ends of where robes should touch the ground. She approaches, standing in the shadow of her wings.

She’s never truly believed in Mila. Faye has always felt apathetic to the goddess who supposedly blessed their lands with plenty and bountiful harvests. And she certainly doesn’t feel any sympathy or sorrow for her now that she’s gone. What had Mila done for Faye aside from creating a war? Mila had been the one who tore Faye from Ram Village—

No.

Mila took Alm from Ram Village, bringing him to the Deliverance. And she followed him like a lovestruck idiot, seeing things that no one was meant to see. Bodies stretched out across fields where crops should have been; drought and barren lands with people starving; coming face to face with soldiers no older—sometimes even younger—than she. Mila didn’t care for her children. She abandoned them, locking herself away in her beautiful temple and falling into excess.

Her stomach churns at the thought of being a holy knight in service to Mila, the goddess who left them to rot and die. Is she supposed to beg for more power? She’s the one who spent hours honing her craft, practicing lance techniques with Lukas, taking riding lessons with Clair—Mila hadn’t offered her any of that. Hell, she’d been the one to tame and train Rosanne! None of the other guys—not even Lukas with his lovely voice and calm presence—could approach her and yet, she’d walked straight up and mounted her like nobody’s business. Mila didn’t teach or guide her to anything. It was all her.

_But this isn’t about Mila._ She thinks, looking at the feet of the statue. _It’s about Zofia and protecting those I love._

She ignores the idea of asking the Earth Mother for guidance and love. Mila can’t guide her—not anymore. Instead, she demands strength and the ability to protect those she loves.

Her hand lingers to her plaits. She glances at one of the pieces of pink ribbon Tobin gave her. She’d cut it in two, one piece for each braid. _This means something, right?_ She thinks, already missing the thought of not tying her hair with it each morning.

She pulls at the end of one of her ribbons. The bow comes undone. She flicks her plait over her shoulder, the sections unweaving. She runs her fingers over the ribbon—it’s still soft and relatively clean. She’s taken good care of them since Tobin gave them to her.

Faye lays down the ribbon in front of the Idol’s feet. She takes the bottle of wine, pouring it over the feet of the statue and the ribbon. It burns up almost immediately, turning to smoke and then dust. The ribbon disintegrates, shocking her. She scrambles backwards, dropping the bottle as it shatters into a million little pieces.

She hears a voice, wise and soothing, suddenly bathed in white light. It’s blinding, to the point where she cannot see anything but the Idol and her feet. The ribbon is in the Idol’s hands, the orb it holds long gone.

“Tell me young one, what do you seek.”

_Mila_. She thinks. It can only be the Earth Mother.

She doesn’t hesitate, stepping towards the light. “I want the power to protect my friends.” She says, gathering all the bravado she has.

“Normally one would ask for love and guidance.”

“I don’t need that.” Faye says. “I just need the strength to do my part.”

There’s a light chuckle in the air. “For a lady so young, you know what you want.”

“I’m told I do as I please.” She says.

“Such conviction shows promise of a strong knight. But an even stronger knight values those around her.” The voice lowers. “I shall grant the power you seek.”

She feels a rush of energy, like she’s just launched a critical attack. “Don the robes of a holy knight and you shall become worthy of the title falcon knight.”

She turns around, looking at the dress that Tatiana has laid out for her. It’s bright, paining her eyes. She steps towards it, slipping out of her uniform and pulling up the new tunic and skirt. She slides the pauldrons over her shoulders, puts the helmet over her plaits and steps into the new shoes.

The bright light fades away, feathers and sunbeams falling from the sky as she looks around. The features of the shrine come back to view. Her old uniform and armour is gone—probably burnt up like the wine and ribbon. The sweet scent of Ram Wine hangs in the air, the millions of shards from the broken bottle are gone. She looks down at herself. Dressed in pure white, Faye is now a holy Knight of Zofia.As if on cue, Silque and Tatiana renter the shrine room. Silque’s hands are already clasped ready to pray, and the two compliment her, showering her in sweet words. She should feel happy and blessed and loved by the Earth Mother. But Faye can only feel her new armour weigh her down. 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s something different behind her attacks now.

After Faye had been blessed by the Mother, Alm sent her, Clair, Gray and Lukas out to the dungeons to explore. She couldn’t believe her eyes when a gargoyle burnt up after touching her. She was even more surprised when bonewalkers began to pull back at the sight of her; the creatures usually would have targeted her first. Revenants are even more shocking, turning their tail and running from her.

Clair says it’s Mila’s blessing and Faye laughs. She had basically told the Idol to stuff it and the thing had still blessed her.

Rosanne was overjoyed to see her. Silque and Tatiana must have changed her tack and saddle, for it now matched her armour in colour and accents. The pegasus had never been as happy as she was when Faye returned from the shrine. In fact, her steed had only grown warmer to her. 

When they return to the shrine, Faye notices that Tobin is gone. Her brow furrows.

“He must be getting an upgrade too.” Gray says, stepping into the torchlight. His shiny new Dread Fighter robes show off skin.

“He must’ve known. That’s why he took Orson.”

“Who?” Gray asks.

“The horse?” She says. “The brown and black one that’s carrying the load of supplies with Mathilda?”

“Oh.” He says. “I’m not surprised, he’s a sucker for animals.”

A moment later, Tobin appears. He’s clad head-to-toe in golden armour, sporting a new helmet with a plume of feathers at the top. Their eyes lock for a split second until Gray rushes him, smacking his back with a distinct metallic sound. Faye watches as the wind is knocked out of him, the archer struggling for a laugh with his best friend.

He looks happy... And handsome. The uniform and armour suits him, like the calling of the bow and arrow had always been for him. If she hadn’t known him since childhood, she would’ve assumed he was a true Knight of Zofia, not a nobody from little old Ram Village.

Alm calls for them to leave, Tatiana and Silque go back into the Idol room and come back out with the bags a few moments later. Gray pulls Tobin for a moment before letting go and calling him to follow. He passes by Faye, his shoulder brushing hers.

His lips curve into a smile. “You look good in white.” He says.

If she hadn’t been so close, she wouldn’t have seen the flush on his face. And in turn, she wouldn’t have blushed so hard either.


	3. Sweet Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The faybin feels are strong and i am lovin it  
> Its so ooc just take it man Just fuckn take it

It had begun to rain on the march towards the western coast of Rigel. The flat barren plains seem to roll on forever and ever. Tobin wonders if it will be this smooth from here to Rigel Castle.

He’s still getting used to riding Orson. His steed is less nervous, seeming more focused in the heat of battle. _Maybe he was an army horse._ He thinks, moving his hand down his mane. Gray sticks beside him, shivering as he complains about the Rigelian cold. It doesn’t help that a dread fighter’s armour is less than ample on the skin.

“Man, I want to have a word with whoever thought short sleeves was a good idea.” Gray gripes.

“You should’ve brought a sweater or something.” Tobin says.

“No way, it’d ruin the cool allure of the outfit!” He stands on the tips of his toes, leaning up to Tobin. “Besides, I’ve got Clair on the ropes. New power should seal the deal.”

He glances ahead to Clair, astride her pegasus. Her white, holy armour sparkles in the rain. The little mage, whom he can only guess is Delthea, walks close to her sputtering on about boys or something. His eyes linger away from the knight and to Faye’s back. Her roseate-coloured armour catches the sparse sunlight that peeks through the clouds above. She walks with Silque under Rosanne’s wing.

“Funny, it doesn’t look like it to me.” Tobin says.

“Pfft. Well you haven’t seen her in action.” He says, giving a cheesy purr. He smirks, standing up straighter. He smiles, murmuring to Tobin, “Sweet-looking Sister at 12 o’clock.”

He glances behind himself, seeing Tatiana come closer. Her mint hair shimmers with rain droplets, her veil dark with water. She offers a pretty smile and Tobin flushes. Girls have always made him nervous. She and Silque both look so fetching and demure, Tobin wonders if all the pretty girls are clerics and saints and holy women. 

“Hi boys, would it be okay if I walk with you?” She asks.

“Sure!” Gray says before Tobin can even muster a word. “Your feet must be tired, why don’t you hop up there with Tobin?”

Her stormy grey eyes look to him. “Would that be okay?”

Words fail him and he nods. He gently tugs on the reins and Orson stops. He watches as Gray gives her a lift up. “Sorry,” she says sweetly, using Tobin’s shoulder as a grip. _For a giver of life, she’s got a death grip_. He thinks. From the corner of his eye, he can see her wide, fluffy skirts hang over Orson’s side.

“You’re too kind.” She says. He feels one of her arms loop around his stomach, holding tight. “Is this all right?”

He nods again, looking at Gray who wears a stupid smirk. For a supposedly chaste and holy woman, she is not shy around the opposite sex. He feels her adjust in the saddle behind her, bringing her shawl closer to herself. “Wow, central Rigel is colder than I remember. Is it just me or do you guys feel it too?”

Before Gray can answer, Tatiana murmurs a soft _oh_. “Wait, you’re from southern Zofia.” She says, as if she’s holding a conversation with them in her head. “Gah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tobin says, words finally bubbling up. 

“You’re right. It will be fine.” She says, her free hand clenches tightly around her staff. “We’re coming up to Rigel Plains and we’ll see him soon.”

“Him who?” Gray asks.

Tatiana blushes, her hand touching her cheek. “My lover. He’s a kind, gentle soul. A general too!” She chimes.

“I don’t think kind and gentle go with general.” Gray leans towards the archer, whispering to him.

Tobin glances back to Tatiana. She’s blushing, eyes softened, probably lost in thoughts of him. “How long have you been parted?” He asks.

“Quite some time.” She says. “The village was raided and I was taken captive. Poor Zeke has been serving a war lord around the plains.”

She begins to ramble, getting lost in her stories of collecting shells and spending lovely afternoons with the general. Tobin’s so lost in them that he doesn’t even notice Gray slip away to walk with Clair.

“I miss him dearly.” She says. “I’ve long thought of seeing him again. Why, I’m giddy at the idea!”

Tobin nervously laughs. “Your guys’ love must be true then.” He says.

“Oh I think so.” She leans closer to him, her voice dipping. “And I think that your love is too!”

He flushes, accidentally yanking back on Orson’s reins. The horse stops immediately with an annoyed whinny. Tatiana’s front smacks into his back as he scrambles to calm his steed. “W-What do you mean?” He says, nervously laughing.

“You and Faye?” She says. Her gaze flickers to the falcon knight. “Sister Silque said that you two had great banter and have been friends for years... To have a best friend grow to a lover is a true blessing from the Mother.”

He stays quiet and Tatiana flushes. “Oh I’m sorry! My stupid mouth...” she shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, I swear!”

“I-It’s okay.” Tobin says. He flicks the reins for Orson to begin walking again. “Faye’s a really close friend of mine. I’m lucky to have her.”

Tatiana offers a smile, laughing awkwardly. “She’s wonderful. I’d like to know her better.”

“Well good luck with that. She’s very guarded.” He says. “It took her ages to warm to Silque.”

“Really? Sister Silque is such a kind soul. It seems she’s welcomed with open arms by almost everyone.” Out loud, she wonders how long it would take them to bond.

Tatiana’s heat radiates onto his back, permeating through his armour. “Is Silque really your Sister?” He finds himself asking. “I mean, you’re a cleric of the Duma faith, right?”

He hears her laugh a little. “She’s my Sister as I am hers.” She says. “The Earth Mother and the War Father are interconnected. And while their teachings differ in words, they’re still the same... Do good unto others, help those in need, have self-reliance and take pride in oneself... That’s all the same thing.”

He mulls over the depth of her words, surprised that such a clumsy girl could say something so profound. He wonders if they taught philosophy in the church of Duma. 

She squashes his thoughts a second later. “Besides, I was raised with both teachings.”

“That’s a blessing then.”

She softly laughs. “I suppose it is.” She says.

The rest of the ride, she speaks of Rigel’s beauties—rolling hills, long sea coasts, the wintry snow that comes in blankets. Tobin is almost lost in her words, with only his gaze on Faye’s back _._

_A best friend to a lover_. He thinks before growing annoyed with himself. He focuses on the road ahead and nods politely to Tatiana’s words. He plies himself with simple thoughts, like the last time this place saw a good harvest from the land and when they will rest.

Tatiana stops speaking mid-sentence. He feels the weight on Orson’s back lighten and looks around to see her standing on her own two feet. Her white holy robes begin to dirty against the barren dusty ground.

“Tatiana?” He says. “Are you all right?”

She cranes her neck like a swan before he can help her back onto his horse. She’s murmuring something to herself, her pretty little brow furrowed. Her eyes are wide and she gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth. She pulls them away quickly, waving them in the air as she lets out a yell. It’s someone’s name.

“ _Hold!_ ” Alm yells.

There’s a group of Rigelian soldiers not far off—Tobin recognizes the red armour they wear and the flag they carry, emblazoned with a large lion. He watches as Lukas and Mathilda try to stop her from moving. Tatiana is swift, running past the knight and her steed and dodging the baron before he can even reach out for her. She‘s running to the front line—right into danger. Tobin draws his bow, readying a shot in case the Rigelians try anything.

He watches as a man with fine hair dismounts his steed. He looks almost like death incarnated, dressed in ebony and crimson. The lance that he holds in his hand looks almost like a scythe. He takes a few confused steps from his horse.

_“Make no further moves or you’ll face a swift end, girl!_ ” The Rigelian commander calls. His lance catches the sun’s beams.

“Tatiana! Come back!” Alm yells.

The man’s face twitches in confusion before coming to realization. He quickly mounts his steed, raising his lance skyward. “Come! We march on Jerome’s army!” He orders.

“They’re turncoats.” Alm says before issuing orders. “Avoid the General and Tatiana—they’re our allies!”

Tobin watches as Faye mounts Rosanne, taking her to the skies. In one swift move, she swipes Tatiana up on the back of her steed, making it back before an archer can even draw an arrow. Faye drops the saint beside him, her gaze harsh and commanding. For a split second, Tobin can see her as a commander of a battalion of pegasus knights.

“Watch her.” Is all she says before zooming back into battle.

Tobin glances to Tatiana. She has tears of relief in her eyes and she gasps her breath. “He’s all right!” She exclaims to him as he takes a shot. “And he’s going to help!”

It only takes a few short moments for the scrimmage to come to an end. After the battle, Tobin watches Tatiana run toward the blonde man, most likely the lover she spoke so fondly of. He lifts her up, holding her tight, uttering promises to never leave her again as she cries.

“Let’s give them some space.” Lukas says, shepherding him and the other villagers who look dumbly onwards at the two. As they shuffle away, Tobin finds himself wondering if he’ll ever experience such a desperate desire for another. 

 

* * *

 

 

They stop in a Rigelian village that welcomes them with open arms. They offer food and provisions and warm beds to the Deliverance for freeing Tatiana and Zeke—Tobin had learnt his name after Gray had said several times—and slaying the witch and commander.

Alm goes off to speak with Zeke about recruiting him. _Seems a waste to have your girlfriend in the army, but not yourself._ He thinks, remembering her long and winded—not to mention detailed—report on how she and the general met and how they were separated.

The villagers are sweet and kind, offering to put up the tacks for their horses and pegasi. He hands off the reins to a young boy, who asks if he’s an archer. He replies with a smile and a wave of one of his arrows.

Gray and Tobin catch the eyes of some young village girls when they finally settle down. “I told you there was an allure to this outfit!” He says as a girl bats her lashes at him.

There’s no more than a handful of ladies left. Majority had heard Lukas speak and flocked to him. Tobin’s silently thankful for Lukas’s involuntary sacrifice. He’s never been great with the ladies—Gray has always been the Casanova of the two. He would awkwardly stand to the side, face aflame if a girl he liked even glanced at him.

One of the girls with short hair tucked into a bun asks if he’s a member of _the_ Deliverance, to which he rubs the back of his neck and smiles nervously. Another screeches in delight and loops her arm around his, proclaiming that they’ll go to the tavern for an ale.

The questions come hurriedly—what’s the army like, how does it feel to be in the resistance, does he have a girlfriend, what’s his steed’s name.

“So you’ve fought with Sir Alm?” One of the girls asks, wide-eyed. She clamps her hands down on his arm, stifling his ability to move.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since childhood.” He says.

The girl with the bun smiles brightly. “He’s _sooooo_ cool!” She chimes. Her eyes widen. “Hey, do you think he’d dance with us?”

Tobin’s free hand goes back to his neck, rubbing it nervously as Gray interjects. “I’m not sure about him, but I know I’d love to dance!” He exclaims.

The girls chitter before leading them to the village square. It’s nothing more than a few old homes surrounding a cobblestone square. In the dead centre is a well, wooden buckets surrounding it. Lanterns hang from above, being lit by a young man as they approach. It looks slightly like Ram Village. The dying sun streams down, glinting in the glass windows of the homes. For the first time in ages, Tobin feels the sun on his back. He doesn’t care that it’s setting and will be gone in minutes. If he closes his eyes, he feels like he’s back in Ram Village.

_Maybe Rigel isn’t so bad._ He thinks to himself.

He watches as some villagers produce instruments, beginning to play sweet music. Lukas starts the dance with a young girl. Her long pink hair is held back with a black ribbon. She clutches onto his hands with a hard grip as he twirls her.

Other members of the Deliverance surround the square, attracting Mathilda and Clive who dance, and Silque who, at Forsyth’s insistence, sings. Her voice is soft and pretty, and she sings of none other than the Earth Mother.

“Tobin, there you are.” Tatiana chimes, striding up beside him.

“Hi.” He says with a smile. “Is your boyfriend good?”

She smiles brightly, glowing like the sun. “He’s wonderful. He and Sir Alm are talking now.” She raises a hand, leaning towards him as if she’s about to share a secret. “I think he might be joining the Deliverance.”

“Good. I’m glad to have him as my ally rather than my enemy.”

“Oh he really wouldn’t hurt a fly!” She says, batting her hand. “And as thanks for listening to me ramble earlier, I thought I’d ask you to dance.”

“Is that really okay?” He asks, fearing Zeke’s wrath should he find his girlfriend dancing with another.

“He won’t mind. Besides, I don’t think you know many steps.” She says before winking deviously. “You never know when you’ll need to impress a girl.”

She takes his hands, pulling him into the cobblestone square. The music changes it’s pace for the quicker as she moves her hands with the beat. Her feet are fast before turning back to him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “Nice and slow now!” She says. “Follow my lead.”

She moves in the shape of a box and he tries to follow, instead tripping over his feet. She laughs. “Loosen up!” She chimes over the din of the music. “Dancing should be fun.”

“I just don’t want to mess up.” He says, eventually catching onto her movements.

“Mistakes are natural! They help us learn!” She smiles softly. “Besides, I think that you have the promise of a great dancer.”

He smiles, brow furrowing as a cunning smile comes across her face. “I think someone else might want your attention.” She glances down to their feet, going over the moves again. “Just remember these steps.”

Before he can fully understand them, Tatiana spins him out. He stumbles right into Faye, who catches him in her arms before he can fall. Their eyes lock and he flushes. “ _F-Faye!_ ” He exclaims, his voice is a mixture of surprise and confusion. He feels her grasp on his waist, his eyes trailing down to see her thin fingers over his upper pant hem.

“Hi Tobin.” She greets. Her voice is strange. It sounds thin and pained. She helps him stand to his full height. Even though he’s the taller of the two and fortified, he feels frail in her presence.

Before his mind can tell him otherwise, he blurts out a question. “Would you like to dance?” He asks, the music changing again.

“How did you learn?” Faye asks, brow furrowed. 

“Tatiana just showed me a few steps.” He says, eyes flickering to the saint. She wades over the cobblestone, hands outstretched as she twirls towards her fellow Sister. “Said I would never know when I would need it.”

Faye thinks for a moment before giving a little nod. They walk out towards the square, the music slowing down to something like a waltz. He’s the first to take her hands, her eyes intently watching him from under her bangs. Her fingers lace into his and he notices how warm her hands are—like she’d just pulled them away from a hot fire.

It’s as if they’d danced a million times before, which Tobin knows is false. They had danced a handful of times in their childhood, but it was never such a formal routine, nor as intimate.

He had thought they would look like fumbling children, tripping over each other’s feet and keeping a distance. But instead, Faye welcomes his touch. She lays her hand on his shoulder as his palm touches the gold accents on her hip. She looks to him with wide eyes, almost looking like she’s about to slap him—he realizes his thumb is on her bare skin and moves up to her waist quickly. 

Her face remains flushed but she doesn’t look away, allowing her hazel gaze to burrow into him. There’s a hint of sorrow in it today. He can’t stand it and instead he focuses on their feet. He notices that she’s changed back into her old tan boots, making her uniform clash horribly.

“Tatiana seems lovely.” She says.

_She’s never been one to beat around the bush_. He thinks before nodding. “She’s really quite nice.” He says. “She had said that she wanted to get to know you.”

“Hm. Personable too.” She says lowly. “She’d make a lovely wife.”

He stops. “I’m not... She’s got another lover, Faye.” He slips up, his boot meeting her toe. She stumbles in pain, tearing her foot from his. He hears her wince. “Crap Faye, I’m sorry!”

She ignores him, standing tall again. Her eyes are glassy, welling with tears. “She does?” Faye asks. He knows she’s speaking about Tatiana. If he wasn’t wrong, he could’ve sensed relief in her tone.

He nods, moving his hand from her waist to her other hand to give extra support. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She says, meeting his gaze again. The glassiness is gone and he can see a flame in her eyes. She begins to dance again, leading him to start. “You’re pretty new to this.”

“Never could afford dancing lessons in a big family like mine.” He says, staring at their feet. His eyes flicker to hers. “And I didn’t think I’d need them.”

A smirk crosses her face. “Guess you were wrong.”

He watches their feet, looking at how confidently she moves. “You must have gotten some.” He says, quickly correcting himself. “L-Lessons I mean. It’s like you’re walking on air. 

“Thank you.” She says. “Nana taught me. Her Mother was a pegasus knight too.”

“Really?”

She nods. “It’s why I picked the class.”

“That’s pretty cool.” He says. His eyes move back to hers for a split second and they soften. “It’s like you were always made for this,”

“I was thinking the exact same thing about you.” She says and he feels a shiver run down his spine. Her hand lingers towards his neck, her finger tips running over an old scar. Her eyes harden at the mark. He looks to it, her pretty thin fingers tracing the thin line and shiny pink scar tissue. He remembers it was her that gave it to him; she’d whipped a twig or something and he didn’t move in time. He thinks briefly at how he likes the feeling of her fingers on his skin.

Suddenly, her heel comes down hard on his foot, eliciting a loud wince as she gasps and apologizes. They almost knock over another set of dancers. Her arm snakes under his shoulder, quickly helping him away from the other dancers. Before she can see if he’s okay,Gray steps forwards and sweeps her away for a dance, giving him a stink eye.

He sits down and watches at how perfectly she moves with him. His family must’ve had the money to put him through lessons. He watches as he speaks to her, face contorting into a frown as she makes backhanded remarks. 

He can only smirk at her. _She always knows what she wants_. He thinks. His fingers move to his neck—warm and blushing where she’d touched him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Before he knows it, they’re at the Last Bastion, greeted by Slayde. Shame and anger catch up to him as he remembers leading the others to the knight’s lance.

But now is not the time for ruminating thoughts.

He notices all the snow on the ground. Blood peppers the white piles, melting it. Some is from the Deliverance, some is from the Rigelian army who threatened to cross their line. The last time he’d seen snow he thought he was in a dream. But the din of lances and swords clashing, the painful, bloody sounds, the incantations spoken hurriedly—this is anything but a dream. _It’s a nightmare_. He thinks.

He hears the flap of great wings and feels snow kick up beside him. Faye‘s gaze is hard and heavy on him, her brow knit in concern. “Let’s go in together.” She says.

“Are you crazy?!” He yells.

“They’re coming hard and fast! It’s kill or be killed!” She exclaims. She leans over Rosanne’s wing, clutching his hand. “Trust me.”

He feels his breath escape him and all he can do is nod.

“Alm ordered for a heavy hitter and then a ranged unit.” She says, letting go. “Come on!”

She steadies her lance. She shines against the snowfall, her armour glittering. She’s almost like a full moon on a bright night. She snaps on Rosanne’s reins, the pegasus zipping ahead. Without orders, Orson follows, and Tobin can’t help but feel a looming ball of bad form in the pit of his stomach. 

 

* * *

 

 

Everything swirls into a mess.

Alm is a prince. Son to the Rigelian emperor, bearing the mark of Duma.

He’s distraught and no one can calm him. That is, until they hear of Celica and her army trapped in Duma Temple. He steeps himself into finding Celica, who presumably is in the basement of the castle.

The march is painful and Faye stays close to Tobin. Like at the Last Bastion and the march on Rigel Castle, they watch each other’s backs.

They free Celica’s army while Alm faces trials to free her. The priestess’s army is a ragtag group of healers, pegasus knights and mercenaries. He doesn’t recognize anyone, but some seem to know others personally, like Silque and a curly-haired mercenary.

He feels Faye nudge his shoulder. “Hey, is that Kliff?” she asks, looking back to a white-haired boy. Gray’s head perks up from a conversation with Clair. The other pegasus knight is annoyed and frowns as he stands, walking towards them.

“Someone mention Kliff?” He asks.

“Faye thinks she saw him.” Tobin says, absentmindedly patting Orson’s muzzle.

“Pfft, yeah right! We left him back in Ram—“

“There he is!” Faye exclaims, pointing a finger. They spy a white-haired villager, standing near a meek-looking healer. It almost looks like he’s calming her by the look of relief on her little face.

“Holy crap, it is him!” Gray exclaims, running towards their fellow villager. Tobin dismounts Orson and follows Gray. Sure enough, it’s him. He’s dressed in the armour and scarf of a myrmidon. There’s a sword on his hip. The saint shies away as he turns back and holds a palm up to her, stopping her mid sentence.

“Hmph. Nice to see you all too.” He says snidely. Gray grabs him in a hug as he stiffens in annoyance.

“Shit, are you a mercenary?” Gray asks. “Wait how—“

“I’m a myrmidon, thank you very much.” He interrupts. “I was about to be blessed as a dread fighter, but we couldn’t reach an Idol in time.”

“Riiiight.” Gray says, not buying it.

“Why aren’t you back in Ram?” Tobin asks.

“What are you, my Mother?” Kliff barks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gods.”

Faye hurries over, having left Rosanne behind with Orson. “It wasn’t safe for you to come! Alm didn’t want to risk your safety!” Faye says, flicking his ear. He swats her hand away, scowling at her.

The saint behind Kliff holds Tobin’s gaze. “I-If I may.” She says, her voice is as meek and timid as she looks. The three villagers turn their gazes towards her. She holds her staff with white knuckles. “Kl-Kliff is a very able fighter. He’s saved my life more than once.”

The myrmidon rolls his eyes as Gray smirks. “Aw, ain’t you cute?” Gray says, looking back to Kliff. “She your girlfriend?”

The saint flushes, clutching her staff adjusting her shawl and quickly excusing herself and hurrying off to a pink-haired priestess. Kliff frowns, smacking Gray in the arm as he chuckles.

“How are you here?” Faye asks.

“Celica stopped by Ram Village. She was looking for Alm and you three and found me instead.” He says cockily. “She asked me to come along and support her army.”

“No shit,” Tobin says in disbelief.

“I did want to see the rest of the world.” He says. “And I’ve gotten to see parts of Zofia and Rigel that I thought I’d never see. All while honing my blade skills and magic. The pilgrims are well-versed in both.”

“And here I thought pilgrims were Mila-loving weirdos,” Faye whispers to Tobin. He chokes on a laugh.

Kliff throws the two a look, a hand on the hilt of his sword. He smirks. “So if you’re looking for a display of power, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Save it for your girlfriend, Kliff.” Gray says playfully. The myrmidon frowns, proclaiming she isn’t his girlfriend. Gray brushes him off, throwing the two into an argument.

“I’m kind of glad to see him.” Tobin says to her.

“I am too.” She says. “I felt bad leaving him back in Ram, but I guess it was for a good reason.”

They watch as the saint comes back, offering the two mercenaries provisions with a smile. She’s young and pretty and Tobin thinks about how different the war would have been without Faye.

In fact, they’d almost left her behind too. She’d begged and pleaded with Alm to take her, making promises to take care of everyone and hold her own. She even threatened to go after them if he didn’t bring her along.

At first, Tobin wished that she stayed behind in safety, but now he was glad she came along. He doesn’t care if it was Alm taking pity on her or if it was Mila plucking at the strings of fate. Faye put his mind at ease, took care of him, even saved him from beheading and being mauled multiple times. And if she hadn’t come along, he wouldn’t have realized how much depth there was to her and all the sweet sacrifices she’d made.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been hours since they entered the Altar of Duma. All they can do is fend off Terrors and hold the line while Alm and Celica fight the fell god.

Tobin watches Faye nervously grasp Rosanne’s reins, watching as Alm raises his sword to attack, only for it to be nullified. She lurches a little, her steed’s wings spreading out to take off.

“Hey, hey. I’ve got you.” He calls.

She turns around, looking at him with wide scared eyes. He can tell what she’s thinking. He’d thought it a thousand times before— _what if one of them died_. The thought never occurred that it could be Alm. He seemed invincible; a born leader who could rally a small, dying army.

He reaches for her hand, holding it for a moment. He gives a tight squeeze. “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t say anything, just staring at him with saucer-wide eyes. She seems so small, so nervous. He can see what she truly is, what they truly are: just scared kids, pulled into war.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He squeezes her hands tightly, to the point where he can feel the metal of his gloves cutting into his hands. Quietly he says; “You don’t need to tell me why you’re feeling scared.” He says. “I’m your friend, and I’m always going to be here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And we’ll do this together.”

She smiles weakly for a moment, before squeezing his hand back. Then, there’s a loud and bright sound. The Altar fills with what looks like stars. A piercing white light cuts through, with a loud, dying crack.

The sound and light scares their steeds. He feels her hands leave his as Orson runs. He’s thrown off his steed. He screams her name and she screams his. Their cries are deafened by the roar of a dying god. He feels himself fall off Orson, his steed whinnying nervously as he rolls against the brimstone-crusted ground.

The light fades quickly. He sits up, his head bare from the blast. His helmet has rolled off and he can see the plume of feathers scatter across the temple floor. 

“ _Tobin?_ ” Faye calls. Her voice is frantic and scared.

He looks up to her. Her helmet is gone, her plaits disorderly. She dismounts, running towards him. She kneels beside him, her knees scraping against the ground. She grabs him and holds him tight. She’s warm and shakes against him. Her hair and face are dusted with brimstone and soot. She whispers four words quickly over and over again. He watches as others embrace tightly—Tatiana and Zeke; Lukas, Forsyth, Python, and Silque; Delthea and her brother; Clair kisses Gray and he twirls her around. He can even see the little messy-haired saint holding onto Kliff tightly.

He looks back to Faye. She touches his face, her eyes wide with relief. Her hands are hot against his dirty cheek, making trails with her thumb. Sound comes back as she says the words again and again, sinking into his skin like summer rain.

“The war is over.”


	4. Bones of Rubber, Heart of Steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and following with this fic, it mean the world to me. Reminder that u can still grab the pdf from my tumblr (which includes a python/silque ficlet that ties into this fic!) ❤︎

She went back to Ram Village alone.

She would’ve thought Tobin was coming with her, what with all the talk of missing Ram and his family, but...

“I have a posting.” He had said simply. They were sitting in front of a campfire, closer than normal. Had someone passed by, they would have surely thought them lovers with her against his shoulder and his cheek against her hair.

She pulled away from him, brow furrowed. “You’re not even coming home to see your family?” She asked.

“I have a posting to the royal castle. Immediately following the war.” He said. He was strangely cold, not the Tobin she knew... or the one she’d come to admire so strongly for the matter.

She would have thought Tobin would go back, even if it was for a short time. But he didn’t and the destinations of the Deliverance members separated immediately. She was the only one headed back to Ram—Kliff had decided to run away with the cleric they’d seen in Duma Temple.

She remembers beginning to walk outside the shadow of Zofia Castle. They had all migrated from the north, dispersing in groups to their separate destinations. Tatiana and Zeke stayed in what used to be Rigel, Luthier and Delthea returned to their forest home, and practically all the rest completed their journey to the castle.

She had returned her armour, abandoning it in one of the many rooms of the castle, and donned her dress and apron and cape once again. The return to pedestrian life—no more fighting, no more healing, no more praying to the now-dead gods to keep their souls safe. Nothing.

She was taking Rosanne with her. She’d tried to leave her behind in the royal barns, where she thought she’d have a better life. But the second she walked away, her pegasus had objected and demanded to come along. Just like Alm, she’d caved and decided to take Rosanne back with her. She had finished tying her measly packs onto her back, settling the tack and preparing to take off.

She thought of them all: Lukas, Forsyth, Python, Gray, Clair, Mathilda, Clive, Alm and Celica, all staying there while she returned to little old Ram Village. It was sad and strange to go alone, but in truth, Faye wasn’t surprised at all.

She remembers standing underneath a moonless sky that night, with a lit lantern to provide light. She’d said it was just a midnight ride to settle her mind before bed. No one had suspected that she was riding with the intents to disappear.

Before she could even mount her steed, Tobin came out. He had kept his knightly armour, something she wasn’t surprised to see.

“You’re leaving?” He asked. “Just like that?”

“I figured it would be easier this way.” She said. She couldn’t be mad, couldn’t hold a grudge. And she hated herself for it, because history was repeating itself. She couldn’t hold a grudge for Alm picking Celica over her, just like she couldn’t resent Tobin for picking the position instead of she.

“Easier for you maybe.”

“I’m the only one going back.” She said quietly, her voice no louder than a murmur. “I don’t think it warrants a processional or a tearful goodbye.”

His face contorted into a frown. “I wanted to go with you.”

She tightened the straps on Rosanne’s tack. “Why don’t you then?” She asked, looking to him. She wished, hell, she prayed that he would change his mind.

He stayed quiet. “I can’t.” The words escaped his lips with a breath. 

She nodded, fighting tears. “Right. You’re needed here.” She said. In the moment, she couldn’t feel betrayal or resentment.

He stepped towards her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulled her towards him tightly. She could hear his heartbeat thud in his chest, thinking about how much she would miss his scent, his presence, his obliviousness, him.

Her hands touched his back, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs taking in deep breaths. His face was in her plaits, so close to her that she could feel his breath on the tip of her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

And she remembers what he’d said. It was quiet, no louder than a whisper. “You have a heart of steel, Faye.”

She felt his lips pressing gently against her forehead. His words had caught her so off guard that she couldn’t even flush at his gesture. She couldn’t even ask if that kiss had been real, or just a flux of her memory.

She’d simply pulled away and mounted Rosanne, Tobin waiting and watching in the dark as she went away, his shadow becoming less and less of a memory. She didn’t cry until she was far enough from the castle. And when she did, she had to stop and land, muffling her sobs into Rosanne’s side. He loved her, and she loved him.

And she had come to question him for that. Maybe even resent him if she was angry enough.

It was friendship that brought them together, and it was love that tore them apart. He was needed in the capital, and she couldn’t see a life for her in a stuffy old castle. She had always had it in her mind that they would return to Ram Village together, and when he said no, she felt... well she didn’t know what she felt other than the desire for him to change his mind.

She came back with Rosanne, greeted by all the same faces: Kliff’s smothering mother, Gray’s harsh father, Tobin’s many siblings. It’s nice, comforting. The only things missing were the others, who have stayed in the capital to put that knighting to good use.

She had told herself she wouldn’t run after him. She wouldn’t follow him like she did to Alm. She would start carrying herself with pride and respect. And she did. She plied herself with small things to keep her loneliness and boredom at bay. She had taken some village children on as pupils to train in the arts of war, as Sir Mycen had done to she and the others. She began a garden, something that she was good at, thanks to her devotion, harvesting fresh fruits and vegetables and giving them away. She took long rides and trips away with Rosanne, looking at abandoned Mila shrines that still peppered the lands and laying in tall fields weaving flower wreaths. She even sent letters once in a while to Silque; nothing serious, just well wishes and happy anecdotes. Even a blessing to her from the Mother, something that Faye knew Silque would appreciate.

But fate had other ideas for Faye’s now-quiet little life. And now she stands on the front steps of the castle. She feels the same longing and sadness creep back up her spine, returning her to his arms on that moonless night.

She stands in front of the One Kingdom’s castle as Lady Faye, the Devoted Heart of Ram Village.

She remembers the first and only time she’d been there. It was immediately after the battle , and the night of her departure. Alm had insisted on knighting all his childhood friends after the war. She remembers being dressed in a fine red gown—the colour of the One Kingdom—and her hair being adorned with silk ribbons at the end of her plaits.

Gray and Tobin were there too, they even managed to track down Kliff. They were all knighted by Alm and blessed by Celica. She remembers kneeling with the other three, her face hot with a blush and her hands clasped in cold prayer. She was lost in her thoughts, spitting vile and evil words at the archer beside her. She remembers heavy metal on her shoulder blades breaking her thoughts. She caught a look, recognizing it as the Royal Sword that they found in Desaix’s Fortress long ago. She looked back down as Celica’s sweet breath recited a blessing to enrich her life with love and happiness.

She remembers thinking sourly of it. Love seemed to bypass her quicker than a pegasus.

She can remember Alm’s voice, soft but strong. “I knight thee Faye, the devoted heart, lady of Ram Village.”

Her eyes had flickered ahead, up to him, who had already moved onwards in knighting Tobin with the title of “the clueless one”. She remembers bitterly agreeing with his choice.

After the war and knighting, she returned to Ram, took up her old life as if nothing happened. Her family was more than happy to have her back, especially her Nana, who was delighted that she was now Lady Faye of Ram. Although it was the title of devoted heart that stuck with her forever, haunting her every thought. No two words described her better than that.

If she was so devoted, why did others spurn her? And why was she so blindsided by her devotion, doomed to be brushed aside for ambition and aspiration.

Her muddy boots aren’t right against the polished floors. She thinks about how she shouldn’t have a knighthood. How she hated the name, the title, the duties that came along with it. She wished to have hers revoked, even thought about running away before she could be knighted. In the end, she had accepted it on the grounds of it being a final gift from Alm to her.

When she returned to Ram Village, her Nana and Ma had assumed she was ready to be married. They didn’t know of all the heartbreak she’d faced while she was away. And yet, she was all too willing to experience it again at his hand.

For months, she kept a candle lit by her window. At first, she told herself that it was just a safety net, something to ease her back into her old life. There was always a lantern lit or a campfire going while she worked with the Deliverance. Childish as it was, it made her feel safer, more comfortable with it. Deep down, she kept it lit for him, as a guide in case he wanted to come home.

But he never did.

She had received the invitation to the castle, with it’s pretty, scrawling calligraphy over two weeks ago. At first she was confused, then excited and then terrified because she knew _he_ would be there amongst the seas of people she didn’t know.

So she let it fizzle, ferment and grow. She even considered holding it over the candle that she kept lit for him. That was, until she found herself packing provisions in the night and running over hill and dale to get to the palace, cursing herself the entire way.

Why did she want to do this? Was she a masochist? Did she secretly delight with seeing his face and washing over with melancholy and sorrow?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything aside from missing him. She’d followed the same route they’d marched in their Deliverance days.

She hears shoes clacking against the floor and then the door opening. She reaches into the pocket of her apron, covered in dust and speckled with rain from the journey. She pulls out her invitation in the case it’s a guard.

“Faye of Ram, is that you?”

She recognizes Clair. She looks distinctly different with that long hair out of a ponytail. She wears makeup and looks prettier than before. She’s dressed in a large ball gown, all ready for the festivities. _No surprise there_. She thinks.

“You look like you fought an army to get here!” Clair says aghast. She looks Faye over, circling once. She remembers the dust on her cape and dress and mud on her boots. “Poor girl, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Nice to see you too, Clair.” Faye grumbles, a laugh hanging over her words.

“Did you just arrive? Have you another gown for the ball?” She asks.

“Yes and no.” She says. “It was a last minute decision to come.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t have thought of you to intend to miss something like this.” She says.

Faye doesn’t say a word, just staring at the ground. Clair offers an awkward smile. “Come with me, I’ll get you all cleaned up and looking like a true lady.” She says quickly, reaching out to gingerly take her by the arm. 

 

* * *

 

 

Clair is not gentle with a comb. Faye knows that her hair tangles and knots easily and but she doesn’t feel it warrants the strength Clair uses.

The haughty pegasus knight started by getting a servant to run her a bath. It was scented with something awful and perfumey, leaving Faye with a headache. She had yelled for the servants to leave, insisting that her limbs weren’t broken.

When she came out, Clair was aghast. “There’s still dirt on your face! What did you do, play with pigs in a pasture?” She barks. Before Faye can shoo her away, Clair has a face cloth in her hand and is scrubbing away at Faye’s cheeks.

“Could you be a little gentler?” She asks annoyed.

“Faye, this is a royal ball, you have to look neat and tidy and presentable.” Clair argues.

“I know, and I have my own hands!” She says, snatching the cloth from Clair’s grasp. She rubs her face off as Clair stands there watching her. “What?” Faye asks tiredly.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” She says. She laughs a little. “Still a brat with no manners.”

“I have manners!” Faye says. “And I know what I like and don’t like!”

Clair rolls her eyes, turning away to get something. “You’re lucky I always pack extra clothes.” She says. “Really, what were you thinking running here like this?”

“Like I said, it was a last minute decision.”

“I should think.” She says as she pulls the comb through Faye’s hair again, still slightly tangled in spots. There’s silence for a moment as Clair clears her throat. “You’ve always had such pretty hair. And nice features. Like delicate hands.” She says.

“What are you talking about?” Faye asks, pulling the cloth away. She feels restricted as Clair sections her hair off.

“I’m trying to keep ladylike conversation up. And prepare you for tonight.” Clair says, the comb stops in her hair. “You’ll be hit by many a suitor, you do realize that, yes?”

“Yeah right.”

“Oh believe me you will. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been pursued at a formal dance. It stacks up.”

Faye rolls her eyes. “Half of them know me as the idiot who followed his Majesty.” She says tiredly.

“And the other half have no clue who you are! All they know is that you are a lady of high esteem.” Clair says. She plaits Faye’s hair from the scalp and stops at the nape of her neck. She takes a piece of ribbon, knotting it in place. “And fought valiantly in the war.”

Clair turns to sit in the chair in front of her. “Now introduce yourself to me.”

Faye’s eyes narrow on Clair, a frown crossing her lips. Clair clears her throat and gasps. She forces her voice to go deeper, faking a man’s tone. “Milady, you shine brighter than the newborn sun! Pray tell, what is your name?”

“Faye.”

Clair flicks the side of Faye’s head, the villager exclaiming, “What the hell?!”

“Take this seriously. Do you want to go back to Ram Village all by yourself?”

“Maybe I do!” Faye exclaims in an annoyed voice. “Besides, I’ve already gone back alone once,”

Clair shakes her head. “I would think you’d be yearning to see the rest of the continent.”

“Not all of us want to explore.” Faye says. “I like Ram and I want to stay there.”

“All alone?” Clair asks.

“I can’t force anyone to come with me. That’s been made clear.” She says.

Clair sighs. “Fine. Then, stay close to the other villagers tonight. I’ll come in if anyone wishes to court you.”

“Thanks.” Faye says tiredly.

Clair gets up, retrieving a little golden box and returns to sit in front of Faye again. The knight recognizes it as makeup—something her mother used to use back when she was a small child. She hadn’t seen any for ages, especially after her return to Ram.

“May I?” Clair asks. She holds a combed wand and a small tin.

Faye nods, sitting up. “Just don’t poke me.”

Clair gives a short laugh. “I won’t as long as you don’t move. Stay still now.”

She gently brushes a black, cakey substance onto her lashes. Faye blinks constantly, out of fear that Clair may poke her in the eye. She tries small talk. “How is married life?” She asks, knowing full well that Gray and Clair are in a relationship.

“I wouldn’t know. Gray and I are only courting.” Clair says, diving back into her case. She pulls out another tin and brush.

“Really?” Faye asks. “I thought you would’ve married the second the war ended.”

“He wanted to, but I wouldn’t say yes. Why rush? Not to mention the scandal. I may not look like it, but I do care about my family’s station and image.” She says, uncapping the tin. “This will make you smell lovely.”

Faye murmurs a thanks. “What’s court life like?”

“Same as it was years ago.” Clair says. “It’s like it hasn’t changed a bit. Still the same gossipy court-ladies, talking about the latest slip-up of the week. It’s funny though. The second they see me or Mathilda approach they become silent.”

“They’re talking about you?”

“Most likely.” Clair says.

“How doesn’t it bother you.” Faye says, meaning it to be a question.

Clair lets out another short laugh. “You get used to it. Become able to block them out like the enemy on the battlefield.”

“Do you think they don’t like your service?” Faye asked.

“Probably. I remember our old friend Fernand thought the men should go to war, leave politics for them while women cared for the home and court.” Clair says. Her face falls for a minute and she sighs. “But I would sooner have met an honourable death on the battlefield than sat here and waited for the war to end.”

Faye looks down as Clair closes up her kit. “Besides. I wouldn’t have met that adorable idiot who stole my heart.” She says.

Her hands clasp together. “Up.” Clair says, disappearing into the next room. “I have just the dress for you.”

Faye looks at the pile of clothes seated neatly on a chair. A servant had laundered and folded them while she was cleaning up. She notices her ribbon on the top—bright pink like the day Tobin gave it to her. She draws a breath, snatching it up and tying it into her hair.Clair helps her into the dress, levels of petticoats and layers of skirts to climb into. She ties a sash around her waist in a big bow.

“Goodness, the ball’s waiting.” She chimes. “We should hurry.”

Clair takes her hands, now dainty and gloved. She looks so much more elegant. But then again, she’s a lady of noble birth and high standing—a product of good breeding. 

“Do you mind if we take a detour?” She asks as they leave her chambers. “There’s the prettiest fan that would look wonderful with your dress. I just left it in the study.”

“I’d prefer to make an appearance and leave.” Faye says.

Clair ignores her, leading her down the great halls. Banners and tapestries  of  Valentian red cover the walls, obscuring the upper level from the ball-goers. There‘s tall portraits of the now-dead kings, Lima and Rudolf. Placed at the landing where the staircase leads up to the private chambers sits a large portrait of the new king and queen. Faye can’t help but think of how perfect they look together. She realizes that looking at Alm and Celica together doesn’t pain her any longer. 

She glances over the railing, looking at circles of dancers, moving in perfect time to the music. She thinks of how soon she’ll be down there and worries of Clair’s warning of courtships.

Clair turns into a darkened room, the light from the ball flooding in. She lets go of her arm, scurrying about for a moment. Faye’s brow furrows as Clair raises a hand to her mouth to gasp.

“Oh! I think it might be in another room. Keep searching, won’t you?” She asks. Before Faye can even ask what the fan looks like, Clair books it for the door, slamming shut behind her immediately. 

“Clair?!” Faye calls, shaking it to open. She realizes it’s locked and cusses. She shakes the knob hopelessly before sighing.

And then, she hears that voice.

“ _Faye?_ ”

She flushes, turning to see Tobin. He’s standing in the shadow of the moonlight that streams in through the window behind him. She can see the outline of shoulder pads and tassels. There’s a golden sash stretching across his chest that’s decorated in medals of honour bestowed upon him from the king and queen—Faye only knows because she has the same ones hidden in her bureau back in Ram Village. In his breast pocket is a pressed flower—one that looks familiar. For a split second, she wonders if its from the flower crown she made him ages ago. 

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move. She just holds his gaze. Her face flushes with the memory of his lips against her forehead.

She thinks about how he’s changed. A Knight of the One Kingdom. He’s got a post, a new home... _Maybe even a new love._ She thinks sadly. All she has is shattered memories of what could have been.

Slowly, he takes a few steps towards her. She braces herself for his touch, shutting her eyes. Instead, she hears the door rattle as he launches himself against it, shoulder first.

“Really?” She says, a part of her wishing that he would touch her.

“What? You’re not going to talk to me either way!” He rubs his shoulder, wincing. “Stupid Gray, luring me in here.”

He watches as she takes a step forwards, lingering in the shadows as he looks to her. There’s a heavy silence and heady gaze on her. His hands meet her shoulders and he realizes that she’s cold and shaking. His hand lingers to her back, his fingers in her hair. They stay in her locks as she stares at his chest. He notices the same pink fabric he’d given her. He feels that shiver go down his spine again. It’s his, the one he’d given her.  _She_ _still wears it_. He thinks.

It’s strange, dozens of bows and ribbons and sashes decorate her dress—all satin and prettier than the raggedy old thing he picked up in a village that he can’t remember the name of. Two years and she’s still wearing it. With all the money she must’ve accumulated from the Deliverance, she could’ve bought hundreds, maybe even thousands of silk and satin ribbons.

She pulls away from him. “You won’t talk to me either.” She says quietly. There’s an anger he’s never seen before in her eyes. “I lost my best friend.”

“What do you think _I_ lost?!” He exclaims. “You’ve always been in my life Faye! And… And then you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t the one who left.” She says, head dipping low. She looks so small in that big dress. Her bangs shadow her eyes, her pink lips moving slowly. “You had a home in Ram Village.” She says. Her voice, usually so strong and commanding, is now quiet and meek.

She hates how it sounds. Hates how weak and small she has become in the presence of him. Has time done this? A year of not seeing each other, a year of not being by each other’s side, and they’ve drifted, becoming nothing more than friends who _could’ve_ been lovers.

She looks him in the eyes. She wouldn’t become small, not in front of him. And yet, she can’t resent him. “You had a home with _me_.” She says.

“I... I know I did.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

“I needed the money.” He says. “I wanted to put my family in a better place.”

“M-Money?” She says, tears threatening to fall. “You couldn’t tell me it was just for that? No letter or anything?”

“You never sent me one either!” He says, slowly growing angrier. 

“I didn’t know where you were for almost a year _!_ ” She exclaims. Her hands come down in fists on her large skirt, the tulle and bows flying up and settling quickly. “You left me in the dark.”

“You disappeared on me too!” He yells, pointing at her. “I thought you were going to stay in the army with me. I thought the Ram Village kids were gonna stay together in this mess. But Alm’s king, Gray’s got a girl and knighthood, Kliff vanished and you went back to Ram!”

“And you left me too!” She cries.

“You forgot that your home was with me too.” He says finally.

The wind is knocked out of her. She blinks rapidly, tears threatening to stream down. He closes the distance between them, pulls her close, biting his lip to stifle anger and to stop his own tears from falling. He whispers her name like it’s a prayer to the long-dead Earth Mother.

“Faye.”

She glances up to him. A frown is on her face, eyes glassy. She pulls away, pointing a finger at him. “I only wanted—“

She’s stopped by the door rattling. She reels backwards, her back hitting an armchair. Tobin reaches for her, his hands find the carved wood accents and soft velvet of the chair. Their bodies meet, curving ever so slightly as she leans against the stiff back of the chair.

Someone’s opened the door, bright light flooding into the room. _Freedom_ , she thinks. She looks up, bravado and feistiness fading quickly as Tobin holds her gaze. She can’t stand it, not any longer.

So she runs, slipping under his arm and running as quickly as she can in that huge dress. His gaze goes wide, watching as she runs through the door. Through a bleary gaze, she recognizes Gray in a familiar coat and slacks, holding the huge oak door open.

“Faye? Faye, calm down!” He exclaims, going after her. She can hear a pair of footsteps catching up to hers. The knight clutches the bannister railing tightly.

She needs out. She needs to go back home and to forget she even came here. Her eyes settle on the hall down below and the great doors she’d stepped through only hours ago. Her gaze settles and focuses on it, as she hurries towards the exit, towards freedom. Her feet meet the velvet-carpeted staircase, thudding loudly. She’s deafened by the music and the sounds of shoes scuffling against the floors.

She’s bathed in heavenly gold light from the ornate chandeliers above. She moves as quickly as she can in such a big dress, weaving through a few pairs of dancers. Suddenly, she’s stopped by a strong arm and a quick laugh. “Faye, how wonderful!” Clair smiles, her dainty hands clenched around Faye’s arms.

She points an accusatory finger at Clair. “Your fan was a farce!” She exclaims.

“Oh, tut-tut. I found it!” She says, holding up a small stick. “Now, I know you didn’t want any suitors tonight, but this an old friend.” She says, leaning closer. “I know you’d love to see him again.”

Faye looks to Clair, eyes pleading. “Please let me go.” She says. “I just want to go home.”

“I would, but it would be improper for a lady to run away.” She says, retrieving a handkerchief and erasing the tracks of mascara on her cheeks. There’s a smile on her lips as her voice softens. “And besides, I did say I’d step in if anyone wished to court you!”

She turns around, Tobin standing stiffly behind her. Gray saunters closely, with a mischievous smirk on his lips. He grabs Clair by the arm, smirking as they hurry away to the polished marble floor.

Any leftover strength and bravado she had is gone, up in smoke like a campfire. She keeps her gaze to the ground, too scared to look at him. Her image is reflected back—a nervous scowl, blushing cheeks, furrowed brow. She thinks of how silly she looks in this huge dress, all done up and acting like a bratty child. She sees his reflectionlook at hers and she flushes harder.

He bows as the music begins. “Lady Faye?” He says.

She doesn’t look, knowing that one tiny glance at him will throw her back into this spiral of letting herself get hurt. 

“May I have this dance?” He asks.

Her mind is screaming at her to stop, turn tail and run all the way back to Ram Village. But the Mother is with her again, gluing her feet to the floor and reaching out to touch his hand. She watches the floor with bated breath, looking at the huge plume of skirts, the ridiculous steps she takes in her boots, just to avoid tearing a hem.

His hands are warm in her cold ones. His grip is gentle, but she wonders if he would grab for her if she ran again, or even run after her.

The dancers take their spots, bowing politely. She takes the hem of her skirt in her hand, carefully curtsying as he bows. She glances towards him, seeing his neck and ears turn pink. He begins to stand tall again, sending her gaze to the floor.

She feels his hand on her waist, his fingers slipping between hers. The music begins. They glide smoothly, not tripping over each other’s feet or blushing at each other’s touch. She thinks about how he must’ve received dancing lessons in the military, or more pointers with Clair. She feels his gaze burn her. It’s her turn to mess up. Her foot comes down hard on his.

“You wearin’ your boots?” He asks, forcing a smile to hide a frown. “To a ball?”

“Clair tried to put me in heels.” She says. “You try wearing them!”

“If you had’ve stayed with me you could’ve had lessons.” He says. “We could’ve endured the pain of etiquette lessons and high tea together.”

She keeps her gaze to their feet, moving in almost perfect time. “And I think you were going to say the same thing.” He adds quietly. “About sticking together?”

She feels anger bubble up inside her. It’s quickly stopped with a look at him. He’s hurt, like she is.

”Why would I stay when I have others who miss me?” She says, feigning indifference. She wishes the dance will finish fast, but the band is just starting. She looks away from him, her eyes flickering around to see Clair and Gray, Clive and Mathilda and Alm and Celica dancing too. 

He stays quiet, gaze narrowing on her. She feels him twirl her around, her breath escaping her lips as she moves. When he pulls her back, he leans towards her further, pressing the boundaries as far as he can. “I supposed that you wouldn’t miss me.” She says sharply, fighting a blush.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Really? I’m not the one who talked about returning and then didn’t.” She says. “You broke a promise.”

“What promise?” Tobin asks.

“Ram Village kids? Us going back together? I knew Alm and Gray wouldn’t come back, but I didn’t think you’d do the same. I mean, not just after I—“ she stops, focusing on his eyes. “Found my feelings for you.”

“And what exactly were they?” He challenges. It’s her turn to beg now, to explain herself.

“You know what I mean!” She says in a high-pitched whisper. Her eyes flicker towards the other couples, circling around them. She thinks of what they’d say, what they’d think.

“Then say it!” He demands.

She‘s almost breathless. Her voice dips, nails creasing his shoulder. “I loved you more than anything.” She says. Her pride is wounded and she feels an annoying blush creep towards her cheeks, heating her face and ears.

The music slows, the crowd erupting in applause. Her hands linger on him as he leans closer. “Then you should’ve realized that I loved you too.” He says lowly.

She meets his gaze, her hands clasping together. For once in her life her affections are returned. 

But her mind works against her. He’s supposed to stay here, making money for his family to live a richer and more comfortable life. She lets out a breath as he takes her hand in his, the other touching the small of her back as he shepherds towards the doors, to the gardens outside where they would be free. Other dancers take their place and begin to dance.

Faye stops before they can even get close to the door. She slips into the shadows under the arches, her back hitting one of the pillars. They’re barely hidden from the eyes of the ballroom. There’s ornate brass carvings of Mila Idols at her shoulders, engraved arms stretching up to the heavens. He steps closer, closing the distance between the two.

Her hands come over her eyes, as if it will help her vanish. “I’m so stupid...” she thinks aloud quietly. She shakes her head. “Nana was wrong. Hearts aren’t made of steel. They’re made of glass.” She begins to ramble. “And sand and porcelain and snow and—“

It doesn’t help anything. No pretty words or flowering language will help to make her understand the desire and longing and loss he’s felt over this year without her. He pulls her hands away from her eyes. She keeps her head down, staring at their dark reflections in the floor as she lists other thin and fragile materials.

“Stop,” Tobin says softly, catching her by surprise.

She looks up at him, brow furrowing in confusion. Before Faye can speak, he drops her hands gently andtakes her chin, tilting it slightly as he brings his lips to hers. He hesitates, like he doesn’t know what to do next. He looks at her with a narrow gaze as she reaches up to grasp the collar of his uniform. Her fingers find his neck, her cold touch sending a bolt of lightning down his spine. Her doe-eyes lock with his.

He brushes her hair behind her ear, tilting her head back. His eyes study her face, fingers entangling in her locks. Even in the dim light, she shines brightly, her hazel eyes wide and cheeks pink. He wonders if she’s always been this beautiful, and where the annoyed little girl who showed off her wounds like medals went. In her mind, she ponders how fast her heart is beating with his brown eyes on hers, and if he’s still the same silly little boy who followed her everywhere.

She pulls him closer, their lips connecting. It’s quick and nervous, feverish almost. Her hands grasp for something of him to hold onto, to ground her and keep them together. He starts to pull away, and she reaches for the back of his neck again, sending him reeling with another heady kiss.

He looks at her, struggling for a breath. She thinks about how much of an amateur he is, and how she’s not much better. How she’s missed being with him, holding him so close and tenderly—even though this is the first time they’ve ever been this intimate. Her lashes flutter hazily as she focuses on him. 

“You are an idiot sometimes.” He says.

“And you’re as clueless as they come.” She shoots back.

He smiles, a dazzling thing. “But you’re the idiot I love.”

She blushes, biting down on her lip. “Really?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah.” He says with a smile, a tiny giggle bubbles up from within her. 

It is the first time he’s heard her laugh in a long while, probably since the war had began. It’s soft and gentle, her sweet breath hot on his neck as she pulls him close to her. “Come back to Ram Village with me.” She begs in a voice no higher than a whisper. Her voice is so thin and desperate. Her hot little fingers clench in anxiety and he feels her heartbeat thud against his fingers.

Tatiana was right; it’s perhaps the greatest gift from the Mother to have a friend grow into a lover. And they had spurned that gift, separating with such haste. The pain that came along with it was greater than a high fall or a sword to the stomach. And for them to part after a lifetime of being side one and other was more painful than either could bear. He missed her more than anything and he couldn’t imagine being without his best friend, not even for a moment longer.

He pulls away from her and he can see terror overtake her face. Her eyes soften and pleads with him to say yes; to breathe it weakly, to shout it loudly, to just _say it_.

He feels his lips form into a smile as her face dips down. She shakes with tears as he takes her into his arms. “I can’t think of anything better.” He whispers quietly into her neck.

She breathes a sigh of relief, her arms coming around his back and holding him tightly.

He can see it now—he and Faye courting. Playful trips as often as they wanted where she’d weave flower crowns and wreaths for both of them; shopping at the market where he’d buy her every colour and hue of ribbon they’d have. Buying her a pretty band and offering it to her for marriage. The ceremony could be held in the middle of Ram Village’s square. His entire family would be there and Faye’s Nana would bake enough sweet cookies to feed them all. They’d build a little cottage near the pond they’d spent time at as children; a barn of course for Rosanne and Orson and plenty of space for them to roam. Warm summer nights entangled and breathlessly staring at the stars; cold winter mornings laying in each other’s arms in front of a fire. Maybe even a child or two down the line... All it takes is a small word and it’s theirs.

 _But why rush?_ He thinks as she takes his face in her hands and stands on her tip toes. She steps on his foot, but all he can do is smile as she kisses him again and again and again. Neither care about the gawking court ladies or the couples who stop and stare at the scene, nor the meddling pegasus knight and dread fighter who put this together, who privately smirk as they dance.

Faye’s breathless and flushed when she finally stops. Tobin feels her hands tremble with excitement. He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got a devoted heart to wait this long.” He says to her. 

She smiles brightly, tears marking her cheeks. Her hand comes up, swiping them away. She pokes him in the chest. “And you’re the clueless one who kept me waiting.”


End file.
